I fear I may cry tomorrow.
I’m leaving my baby girl and husband for a long weekend, and all I keep thinking about is the moment when I’ll have to get in my car and drive away, leaving my child hundreds of miles behind while I head north.
Before I became a mother, I had lots of opinions about mothers. Don’t we all? I found it a bit ridiculous that women would lament taking a vacation because they were sad about leaving their kids for a few days. It’s just a few days! I wanted to yell, proud of my healthy logic.
But they’re hard to walk away from, those little ones.
Don’t get me wrong–I am thrilled about uninterrupted morning coffee, sleeping without listening for cries, and living on my own schedule for a few days. Mostly, my heart is nearly bursting with happiness about spending those days with some of my dearest friends who have each moved away recently.
But I’ll miss both of them, the little one with the sweet, milky smell and her daddy, too.
This mothering thing keeps leading me to moments of, “Who in the world am I?” Not the girl I was five years ago or five months ago, and I love my Lord for that.