It Made So Much Sense at the Time...

Sitting at the dining table tonight, watching Samantha carefully scoop chocolate pudding from her bowl onto her spoon, guiding it gently into her mouth without any spills, I was unexpectedly struck by an overwhelming feeling of awe, that I had grown such a big girl.  It was a sudden, sharp, and surprising moment, one of those times when you think, "But surely, I recognize these things every day - why am I feeling like this is the first time I've ever noticed this?"  It was like looking at her with new eyes, just for a moment.  Fleeting.

I think it was the normalcy of the moment.  The conversation that (mostly) flowed, Samantha recounting the things she and her aide, N., had done this afternoon, the look of surprise on her face when the dishwasher in the kitchen began a new cycle and roared to life, as she said, "Mommy, what's that noise?"  "It's the dishwasher," I said.  "Oh, dishwasher." was her reply.  The classic childhood love of chocolate pudding in all its sweet, sticky glory, and her ability to savor and appreciate every. last. drop.

She called me Dr. Mommy, as we discussed a boo boo.  I think this is what sparked it.  She has called me this many, many times while playing doctor, but suddenly I realized that I am no longer a baby, either, and am truly Dr. Mommy, every day.  I have learned to create and nurture, to cause this exquisite and rare flower to sprout and blossom.  This big girl was a baby, only yesterday.  Every beautiful cell and chromosome was created by us, her parents.  Her whole life has been in our hands, every beautiful pound she's gained, every beautiful inch she's grown.

In retrospect, I realize I can't adequately recount that feeling I had, and it misses so much in the translation here.  Sort of like having a vivid dream, then waking and telling someone about it.  It made so much sense at the time...

My big girl in her apron, helping to make her lunch.