I'm cooing at you and you're smiling away and I'm smiling back and I love you ten times more than I did yesterday, a hundred times more than the day before and a thousand times more than two days ago. My love for you has always grown exponentially since the day you were born. As we're smiling away you laugh at me and I squeal. Your first laugh! You're laughing! Oh, your giggle is an absolute melody that would put Vivaldi to shame. I could almost cry I'm so happy.
You're stumbling and you're a bit bruised but I'm elated because you've finally taken your first steps. You're marching to the rhythm of your own drum. Padum, padum, padum, pa-thunk. You fall. You turn and look at me, wondering whether to laugh or cry. I'm currently doing both but you notice my wide smile and giggle that same giggle that put all music to shame. I make a mental note to buy you tennis shoes.
We're sitting at the table eating breakfast and I'm in a rush because I've got to get you to daycare and I've got appointments with ten different clients, three of which I'm going to have to put on suicide watch today. I finish my cereal and throw a few papers in my folder, finishing up last minute things while you finish your breakfast and I hear you mumble something that makes me come to a startling halt. "What was that, sweetie?" Did you just say what I thought I heard? You repeat yourself and I smile. "Mommy," you repeat for the third time. "Mommy, mommy, mamamamamamamamommy." I sweep you up and hug you, and gaze into your big, beautiful blue eyes as you say once again, "Mommy."
"Mommy, book." "Mommy, up." "Airplane!" "Mommy, look, horsey!" "Mommy! Baff time!" "Mommy, seepy." "Mommy, truck." "Mommy, red." "Mommy, I'm hungry." "Mommy, I want this."
"Mommy, I love you."
Can we just stop here? You're growing up too fast and I miss the days where you wore tiny clothes and couldn't form full sentences and I could hold you for hours without you getting too heavy. Soon, you're going to learn to hate me. Soon, you're going to ask who your daddy is and I don't want you to know. I don't even know and even if I did, I don't want to share my daughter with anybody. Stop here while you're still too young for the world to hurt you. Please, don't turn three. Whatever you do, stay with me as you are, always.
"Moooom!!! I'm gonna be fine, mommy! Just leave! Come on, there's a thousand other kids here! Mommy, go!!! You're embarrassing me! Please, mommy, just leave! Stop crying, Mommy. Stop it. Mommy, go! Mommy, I want to go to Kindergarten and be smart like you, but you need to leave so I can learn!" You're too smart for me.
"Mom! I need you to sign this!" Well, what is it? "I got in trouble at school today. Johnny Bishop was talking smack to me so I smacked him!" I never raised you to be like that. "But you raised me to stand up for myself." Well, you're in 8th grade. Let's keep the violence to a minimum. Deal? "Whatever, Mom."
Clean your goddamned room! Don't be such a pig! Do your chores! Don't make me have to force you to pay rent! You can't go out with Dean tonight if you're gonna talk to me like that! I don't care if it's his one night with the car! Your cell phone bill is too high, I expect you to pay the difference! "Mom! Stop nagging me! God, I hate you so much sometimes!" My mind flashes back to the first time you told me you loved me, and I start to cry.
You're graduating from Stanford today, law degree in hand. Not only that, but you're the valedictorian. As you stand to speak, I see your hands shake. I'm smiling and I'm crying, just like I've always done for you. You talk about your achievements in life, you talk about your classmates' achievements as well. You narrate the journey you're all about to take into the careers you've all chosen and you start smiling with pride. That's my girl. You near the end of your speech and your voice quivers. "Last, I'd like to thank the one person who's always loved me. She's loved me since day one and every day since then her love has grown exponentially. Even when I told her I hated her, she's had my back. She raised me on her own and I owe her everything. I love you, Mom." I love you, too.
I watch you live your life. Your career takes off like wildfire. You meet a great man and you get married before I'm ready for it. I see the same spark that you were in me begin to grow in you. I hold your hand as you sweat through seventeen hours of labor (payback!) and you and your husband welcome my grandchild into this world. I watch through two more pregnancies, two more deliveries, and love three grandchildren.
Without me knowing it, something has sparked inside me. Like you, it catches a gust of wind and rages like wildfire inside my body. But, instead of growing life, it's death. Death ravages my body until I just can't take it anymore. We've been in this hospital and you've been by my side every day for the past year as I try to fight this wildfire that won't let me go. It's burned every last bit of my insides, and I know I've got to go. I look into your big blue eyes, and they take me back.
I'm seeing your ten tiny perfect little fingers and your ten tiny perfect little toes. I can see your first steps, I can hear your innocent laughter, and I can feel the first "I love you," once more. I smile wide and I start to cry. I want to tell you but these tears have me too choked up. You put in my CD, a composition of Vivaldi and Tchaikovsky pieces. I close my eyes to rest for just a little bit. "I love you, Mom." I love you, too. I open my eyes, connect them one last time with yours. In them I see everything."Mommy, book." "Mommy, up." "Airplane!" "Mommy, look, horsey!" "Mommy! Baff time!" "Mommy, seepy." "Mommy, truck." "Mommy, red." "Mommy, I'm hungry." "Mommy, I want this."
"Mommy, I love you."
Can we just stop here? You're growing up too fast and I miss the days where you wore tiny clothes and couldn't form full sentences and I could hold you for hours without you getting too heavy. Soon, you're going to learn to hate me. Soon, you're going to ask who your daddy is and I don't want you to know. I don't even know and even if I did, I don't want to share my daughter with anybody. Stop here while you're still too young for the world to hurt you. Please, don't turn three. Whatever you do, stay with me as you are, always.
"Moooom!!! I'm gonna be fine, mommy! Just leave! Come on, there's a thousand other kids here! Mommy, go!!! You're embarrassing me! Please, mommy, just leave! Stop crying, Mommy. Stop it. Mommy, go! Mommy, I want to go to Kindergarten and be smart like you, but you need to leave so I can learn!" You're too smart for me.
"Mom! I need you to sign this!" Well, what is it? "I got in trouble at school today. Johnny Bishop was talking smack to me so I smacked him!" I never raised you to be like that. "But you raised me to stand up for myself." Well, you're in 8th grade. Let's keep the violence to a minimum. Deal? "Whatever, Mom."
Clean your goddamned room! Don't be such a pig! Do your chores! Don't make me have to force you to pay rent! You can't go out with Dean tonight if you're gonna talk to me like that! I don't care if it's his one night with the car! Your cell phone bill is too high, I expect you to pay the difference! "Mom! Stop nagging me! God, I hate you so much sometimes!" My mind flashes back to the first time you told me you loved me, and I start to cry.
You're graduating from Stanford today, law degree in hand. Not only that, but you're the valedictorian. As you stand to speak, I see your hands shake. I'm smiling and I'm crying, just like I've always done for you. You talk about your achievements in life, you talk about your classmates' achievements as well. You narrate the journey you're all about to take into the careers you've all chosen and you start smiling with pride. That's my girl. You near the end of your speech and your voice quivers. "Last, I'd like to thank the one person who's always loved me. She's loved me since day one and every day since then her love has grown exponentially. Even when I told her I hated her, she's had my back. She raised me on her own and I owe her everything. I love you, Mom." I love you, too.
I watch you live your life. Your career takes off like wildfire. You meet a great man and you get married before I'm ready for it. I see the same spark that you were in me begin to grow in you. I hold your hand as you sweat through seventeen hours of labor (payback!) and you and your husband welcome my grandchild into this world. I watch through two more pregnancies, two more deliveries, and love three grandchildren.
Without me knowing it, something has sparked inside me. Like you, it catches a gust of wind and rages like wildfire inside my body. But, instead of growing life, it's death. Death ravages my body until I just can't take it anymore. We've been in this hospital and you've been by my side every day for the past year as I try to fight this wildfire that won't let me go. It's burned every last bit of my insides, and I know I've got to go. I look into your big blue eyes, and they take me back.
Ten fingers, ten toes, footsteps, laughter, love, learning, me, and you. I see it all. I see you graduating high school. I see you in your wedding dress. I see you in third grade. I see you as you leave for your first date. I see you when you're pregnant when your first child. Then suddenly,
I see nothing but white light.
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