Evelyn, just a couple months ago.
Today I am feeling some exquisite pain that I have never really felt before. It is an unusual pain and I call it exquisite because it is coupled with the most enormous joy my heart has ever held. It is the pain/joy of motherhood.
Finn, one year ago.
I was just surfing Facebook, befriending some women I just met this morning, and I saw a photo of someone's kid. A boy, probably six or so, and he looked a little like Finn. His eyes were dark brown and all of the sudden it hit me - Finn will be this big someday. He will grow up into a sweaty, wild boy. Into his own person. One day he and I will not be intricately intertwined as we are now. And I just started weeping. Big, heavy tears.
Finn, now.
This emotion is something other mothers may be familiar with, but it is new to me, and it is both terrible and beautiful. This fear and pride of allowing my children independence, and knowing that someday they will be their own.
With this feeling bubbling up, scraping my heart on the inside, I have to remember to cherish these fleeting moments. Holding my sweet little daughter close to me, smelling her milky skin. She and I are still just one being, pretty much. Her degree of need is high, and I sustain her. I relish our time together, because before I know it she will be on the brink of 2, like Finn, and wanting independence more than anything. For now, though, she is completely mine.
Evelyn, now.