It happened two days in a row.
C was frightened and she reached for me.
My. Heart. Melted.
Sure I was a little upset that she was scared, especially since one of the two times it was me vacuuming by her that made her upset, but I was also elated becasue she knows who I am. Well she doesn’t know who I am really, but she knows that I am a source of comfort. That I belong to her.
Some days I really can’t believe that she belongs to me.
I can’t fathom the fact that she started off as a zygote, grew in my body for nine months and came out of body. I wanted her so bad and now she’s here. We have kept her alive for 8 months and she is turning into a little person. She is starting to move. She gets frustrated, and proud of herself. She feels pain and giggles.
Within a week of coming home from the hospital we had to take C to the orthopedist. I was filling out the paperwork and it asked for the child’s guardian. That’s me! I am someone’s guardian. I am responsible for teaching her how to take care of herself and be a productive member of society.
Just today a permission slip came home from daycare. Am I even old enough to fill out a permission slip? Some days I wonder. I pick C up from daycare and wonder if the other parents think I am her big sister, or the nanny. I am actually an older new mom. Why do I feel like a fraud? Maybe I just can’t believe how incredible lucky I am.
Scraped knees, saying ‘no,’ and broken hearts (hers and mine) are in my future.
It’s a frightening prospect.
And an awesome responsibility.