Childhoodtake2!

I knew, when you were just a peanut and I was holding you from the inside.
I knew the day I sat holding my positive pregnancy test in hand.
Standing in the bathroom, tears running down both of our faces.
I knew before the ultrasound confirmed.
I knew before she turned to us and said, "you're having a girl".
I knew you were a baby girl.
I knew you were my daughter.
I didn't know what was ahead of me, I still don't.
All I knew is that this mom would have a daughter.
A girl turning woman.

On my quiet drive home, I placed my hand over you and I said your name, out loud, to myself.
"Anna, I'm your mom, can you hear me?"
And then, the song started to play.
I turned it up and sang you my first lullaby.
I heard how this song was being sung for you.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you.
And everything you do.
I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called yellow
You know you know I love you so
You know I love you so"

The tears wouldn't stop.
I tried to hug you as tight as I could.
We were half way there and soon, I would hold you on the outside.
Soon I would share you, with the entire world.
But, for the next 20 weeks, I was the one that got to rock you to sleep.
I would be the one to feed you, I would be the only person allowed to hold you.
We were together, two hearts in one body.
I carried your heart, and you heard mine from the inside.

That night, I asked your dad to put the song on your welcome to the world playlist.
I wanted it to be one of the first things you heard in the world.
I wanted my voice and that song to be your first memories.

I wanted you to know that the world sings for you
and all the things you do.
I wanted you to know that I came along and I jumped for you
oh what a thing to do.
I drew a line, I drew a line for you
and all the things you do.

"It's true
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for
And they were all yellow."

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on alone.
Go.

Never have I been around so many people.
Never have I had so many counting on me.
Never has my name been mentioned so many times in a day.
And yet, there are times that I feel I have never felt more alone.

Never has my house been so loud.
Never has the quiet been work to find.
Never have I had so many hugs, hands constantly pulling on me.
Never have I had so many I love yous.
And yet, there are times that I feel I have never felt more alone.

Never have my friends been this scattered.
Never have our relationships taken work to connect.
Never has saying hello filled me up and leaving left me empty.
Never has something happened and I had to wonder, who do I tell?
Never did they let me know that motherhood, adulthood, would feel so alone.

Never have I felt more comforted.
Never have I felt more alone.
Never have I felt more at peace.
Never have I felt more chaos.
Never have I felt more heartache.
Never have I felt more joy.
Never have I felt more loved.
Never have I felt more left behind.
Never have I felt more connected to me.
Never have I felt more lost.
Never have I felt more sure of what I was always meant to do.
Never have I questioned me more.
Never have I felt so much company.
Never have I felt more alone.

Stop.

In happens all at once.
You become a different child, a different person and I lose you.
I feel you slipping farther and farther away.
The real you, she disappears.
And what is left is a tired, angry, and former version of you.
I don't recognize who you are.
Your words are full of anger, rage, red hot rage.
Your eyes are not yours.
Your voice, your personality, it all slips away.
Your laugh comes with such authority.
You dig in, as hard as you can.
And I kneel down and wait for you.
I will wait for you.

I slip into your room, we lay down, face to face.
I start my confession.
I feel as though I am losing you, as though I have lost you and I just want you to know, that I miss you.
The tears, they start trickling down your face and mine.
The honestly just pours out of me and I always wonder if this is too much information for you to hear.
My disappointment is hurtful.
My anger is trying to cool.
And I kneel down and wait for you.
I will wait for you.

Kissing noses, you say that you love me, that you are sorry.
I tell you that I know this isn't the real you, that you are full of good and love.
You are kind and caring, you are loving.
I know that you can lead.
I know that you are the definition of love.
And I kneel down and wait for you.
I will wait for you.

I know that tough times are ahead.
Times where I will lose you all together.
Times where you will be trying to figure out who you are so your definition of self will change every day,
almost moment to moment.
I know that this is just our beginning.
That the little person I put on this earth and loved and thought I knew so well is fighting for her own identity.
And I kneel down and wait for you.
I will wait for you.

At the end of your journey,
your self discovery,
I will be here.
I will be waiting for you.

No matter who she is.
No matter your choice,
I will kneel down and wait for you.
I will wait for you.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on find.
Go.

I try and find the quiet through the storm.
I try and find the good, focus on the good.
I try and find the happy, the childhood, the second chance.

And there are times, I succeed.
There are times I triumph.
There are times I fail, and fail miserably.
There are times I focus and only find the loud, the exhausting, the talk back.
There are times I focus and only find the heavy of parenting, of couple-hood.

And my hope for you is that you too find the quiet calm in the storm.
You too realize that all parents find their strength in our child's smile.
All parents find our drive in their arms wrapped hard around you.
All parents fail.
All parents keep trying.

All parents find love.
All parents find that it fixes our broken.
All parents find a way, their way.
All parents find themselves in their children.
All parents find love, in you.
Your face, your laugh, your childhood, your exploration, your journey.

We find ourselves, berried in you.

Stop.

I believe in you,
in us,
in family.
I believe that family is how you define who you want to be with, spend time with.
I believe that the right family wakes you up from a long deep sleep.
I believe that family makes you heal.
I believe that family makes you feel a heavy weight that somehow makes you feel free.
I believe in growing old together, hand in hand.
I believe in love.
I believe in love fixing the broken, all the broken pieces.
I believe that love puts us back together.
I believe that we need more of it, that we can never have too much.
I believe in hope and second chances.
I believe in second childhoods because I believe that childhood is important, at any age.
I believe in laughing and having it take control of your body.
I believe in smiling so that each wrinkle is a memory of a moment that made you smile.
I believe in how heavy little is.

I believe in running and movement and health for each part of you.
I believe in calm and finding it daily, your part of peace.
I believe in quiet and refilling yourself.

I believe you will find happiness,
I believe you will work hard.
I believe you will conquer.
I believe that you can and will because you will try!
I believe in your heart.
I believe in your mind.
I believe in your ability.
I will always believe in you, more than you believe in yourself.
I have faith wrapped up in you.

I believe in you,
in us,
in family.