They're Not Mine

Well, they are. For now. Just not forever.

I was watching all the kids today as I waited to pick up Andrew & Hannah from school. All different age ranges from the babies & toddlers, wrapped up in their mom's embrace, to the 1st graders, still fresh & excited about school, to the 5th graders, more interested in their surrounding friends & the social happenings of the world than much else anymore. Just then, Thomas kicked me, and my first instinct was to reach for my tummy, to rub it & tell him hello.

All of a sudden-may it be hormones, the chick in me, or the fact that I get to experience the miracle of life from it's very beginnings all over again, my heart welled up with a bittersweet sadness.

They start out, completely dependant for their every need. They rely on us to provide them with comfort, love, support, joy, and an unconditional promise to be there no matter what, at all costs, all the time. They look back to make sure we're there. Cry when we're not. Any time they experience a "first" they make sure we know about it. They come to us and tell us their thoughts, feelings, and worries in this world.

We scare monsters away with flashlights. We stroke their hair when they're sick. We speak reasurring words when feel their first rejection.

Then, all of a sudden-they feel it's not as necessary for us to be there at all hours. They forget to look back. They rely on friends as a source of comfort when things don't go right, and they admonish us when we try.

I know it will come back. Don't get me wrong. I know that they'll grow up and there will be times when they'll need me. When they'll need the comfort and safety of mom.

But my kids, no matter how much I call them "mine" are their own entities. Souls meant for paths I cannot always follow directly behind in. Their lives slowly becoming solely their own, and I'll be but a fan on the sidelines-silently cheering through their victories, and feeling their hurts when things don't go right.

I love watching them grow up, but I hate seeing them take those tentative steps towards the outer edges of the nest.