Slipping Through My Fingers

The months leading up to the wedding were some of the toughest our relationship has ever known.

She was stubborn; I was pushy.

I found her independence irritating when I, the experienced parent, knew what was best for her and she refused to see that.

I decided eventually to let her make all the decisions, and to keep my mouth shut, even though I knew she would regret certain things about the day.

(Spoiler alert: she did. Also spoiler alert: I regretted every push I made).

But the night before she was to officially take on someone else’s name, she asked me sheepishly if I would mind blow drying her hair. We chatted over the din of the hair dryer about her adorable fiancee. I asked her to tell me all the things she loves most about him.

Her smile grew huge as she rattled off a long list.

I was caught off guard and found myself holding back tears as she talked of her love for this man. Running my fingers through her hair, watching in the mirror, I was awestruck at her beauty and poise. It took me back to when I’d style her every day in the little girl years.

The banter was familiar. Her chattering, me listening. Some days I’d barely pay attention; others, I made sure to soak it all in. The freckled nose, bright green eyes, and teeth in varying stages of size and growth. She’d talk of her hopes and dreams for her life. Dreams of what her husband would be like, dreams of her wedding, dreams of her future.

That future was now here, and the lyrics from “Slipping Through My Fingers” ran through my head over and over.

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while

The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind?
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

That funny little girl is now a grown woman, and she was sleeping in her bed as solely my child for the last time. My heart ached with the notion that I would probably never get to do this again with her.

It’s a funny thing, motherhood. At times, you find yourself bogged down in the mundaneness of it all. The endless tasks to be done, their complete and utter dependence on you, the exhaustion. Sandwiched in that chaos are moments you swear you will remember forever, but don’t.

Instead, you are left with flashes and shadows of what it felt like to have your little girl curled up in your lap, her fingers twisting your hair absentmindedly. The vivid images you have in your mind of her running off the bus towards you with open arms are actually photos you have in a dusty album. You strain, but can’t quite remember what her voice sounded like back then. You regret not letting her sleep in your bed every night your husband was out of town and think of how silly you were to worry she’d never learn to sleep alone.

Well, she’s learned to do life alone. She has navigated college, relationships, jobs and friends. Sure, she’s called for advice and now then, but she’s become this incredible human being in spite of your pushy interference. She’s grown up. She’s about to become somebody’s wife.

I’m proud as can be of who she is and feel the weight of the privilege it was to raise her, even if the time slipped right through my fingers.