Life is change.

My baby is not a baby anymore.

She is this incredible little human, someone I feel I can take very little credit for. Yes, I love her, squeeze her, teach her, guide her, sometimes yell at her (then berate myself after); I kiss her owies and put her in bed next to me when she’s got a stomach bug (knowing she’ll likely throw up there), yet she’s her own perfect self, sometimes despite me.

Life is change, and that change can be painful, like the growing pains tiny bodies experience as they stretch and make bigger what was once little.

The last two plus years of my life have been filled with those pains. I’ve waded through, am still wading through, who I am when all of myself is consumed by another. I’ve struggled with forgiving myself when I lose it after the tenth hitting tantrum, following days and days of no time to catch my breath. And, I’ve sat in the car with tears, wet from my own childhood longings, running down my cheeks as I watch my daughter step out on her own two feet, without me, in nursery school.

I am learning that though intricately intertwined with me, my daughter is very separate from me. This walk is the walk of parenthood, one I never contemplated before it was upon me. Embracing and unconditionally loving, yet gently nudging away so your child can begin stepping into those things they came to this time and place to do.

Whether you are a parent, longing to be a parent, or sharing your love in other ways in your life, life is change.

We all must be stretched bigger so that what was once little can grow to be what it was meant to be, so that we can do what we are meant to do in our precious time on earth. And stretching hurts.

Yet when we embrace the stretch, lean into it, accept what it is here to teach us, we find that, as with all things in life, this moment too shall pass. And though it might seem impossible at the time, you will miss it. Because life is fleeting, moments disappear and the vista we see in front of us will never ever be repeated.

And so I am going to stop all of my wishing, worrying and frantic efforts to make sense of this transitory time in my life. I am going to just enjoy the vista of my toddler daughter, with her bright yellow purse, red cape and Wonder Woman dress who finds beauty and magic in everything.

May you too stop and savor the horizon of your life. Because soon the sun of today will set and it will be forever gone.






  1. This was such an unexpected treat, to see this in my inbox. I have so missed your writing! Whether this is the beginnings of a return to practice or a single piece that needed to move through you, I am grateful for your wisdom and always for the way you share your heart. This reminded me of that Kahlil Gibran piece:
    “Your children are not your children.
    They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
    They come through you but not from you,
    And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.”

    How you embrace the stretching and the present, holding the energy for both, is such a gift to that sweet little girl, and to all of us who need that reminder to grasp the now in our hands.

  2. Thank you my dear friend. I’m rusty, yet trying to get back to myself a little in the nursery school hours. I love that poem as well!

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