Watching our children grow

This week my daughter turned two years old. I’ve mostly held myself together until now, but this past week I had a few moments where I just fell apart.

One of them was last week at 9:30 at night. The realization of my little girl growing up hit me like a train.

She’s not a baby anymore.

She doesn’t want to nurse much anymore.

She prefers books and dancing in her jammies more than she does cuddling with me and letting me hold her.

This was so hard.

I called my mom sobbing. She picked up the phone scared to death because she didn’t know what in the world was happening. “Laaauraaaaa” I cried through my tears. I think I gave my mom a heart attack that night because she went to worst case scenario in a matter of seconds.

“Laura is getting so ollllddddd….I can’t take it!!!” My mom was very much relieved to know that we were all still alive.

Mom put me on speaker phone with dad. They told me they knew this feeling all too well. And that it would never stop… They understood and validated all my messy tears. They told me they felt that way when their 32 year old was also 2… and so many times thereafter.

When I was pregnant with Laura people kept telling me to cherish every moment because time goes by so fast. “You blink and they’re all grown up” they would say.

I’d chuckle and smile and say “yeah, I can imagine!”

I didn’t realize the feeling would come so soon. Not at 2 years…

It’s such an odd feeling. I feel proud of who she’s becoming and I feel scared of all that I can’t control. I feel so thankful and frustrated that she won’t stay in this little fun body. I feel joy and sadness. Love and pain.

Gosh, what a basket case I’m going to be when she goes to kindergarten… college… gets married… has her own kid… let’s not even go there.

So here’s the thing: I’ve recently started to see this whole parenting journey through the metaphor of trees and lights. This helps me not get so sad, but celebrate her getting older.

Raising our seedlings

When we plant trees from seeds they start off as little seedlings. But we don’t want them to stay seedlings forever. We want them to grow upwards, strong and steady, able to withstand the storms of life and the strong winds that accompany them.

We want our little trees to grow into big trees that blossom and bloom and give off beautiful fragrances. We want them to stretch out their branches and provide homes for the birds and animals.

And one day, we want their seeds to sprout and create new life. We want their big branches to provide shade for new seedlings. We want our little trees to grow into big trees that cultivate new life and provide for the next generation.

I don’t want my little girl to stay a little tree forever. I want her to grow strong and high, and I want her beautiful branches to provide life to others in whatever shape that might take.

Both are true: I don’t like the thought of her getting old, and I can’t wait to watch her grow and see the fruit of my labor. (For these early years are joyful and lovely and incredibly laborious and exhausting).

Nurturing our little lights

The second time I fell apart was last night. It was officially the day she turned 2 and I had our last night of nursing.

After Joey and I put her down I left her room in tears. The really big and ugly messy tears.

And then, Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount came to mind, specifically Matthew 5:14-16:

“You are the light of the world — like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one likes a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.” (NLT).

I wrote this in my journal while thinking about this verse:

“My little girl has a bright light within her soul, growing brighter and brighter each day. Who am I to want to stifle this and keep her beaming, beautiful light all to myself?! To keep her like a light flicker when it can be a flame?”

One of the first songs I sang to Laura when she got home from the hospital was Go Light Your World by Chris Rice.

The lyrics are beautiful and speak of my hope for my daughter’s life:

There is a candle in every soul 
Some brightly burning, some dark and cold 
There is a Spirit who brings fire 
Ignites a candle and makes His home 

Carry your candle, run to the darkness 
Seek out the hopeless, confused and torn 
Hold out your candle for all to see it 
Take your candle, and go light your world 
Take your candle, and go light your world…

I sang this to her last night again as we nursed for the last time, thinking about the bright, big impact she will make on the world.

I can feel the sadness as she grows, but I don’t have to dwell here. I get to nurture her little light and watch it grow and light up the world.

What a gift!

This little light of mine, I get to watch her shine. 🙂