I blinked, and then Ten.
A decade, within a moment; I'd suspected the possibility, but now instead of whispering softly, hinting at its arrival, it lies sprawled within a bed, a nymph-like being, teetering between the age of child and young adult, holding onto the possibility of fairies (maybe, just maybe) while peering with trepidation at what lies just beyond the bend.
An impossibility, no longer, but instead a truth.
I try now, to remember the scared woman that I was walking into the hospital, knowing that when I walked out, I would be a mother, but not comprehending it. Perhaps, today, not comprehending it still.
I sit tonight, cupcakes to frost, with un-pink frosting. Pink, which once had been the staple of her wardrobe and bedroom, pink, the color of her dreams. Pink, the flush of her cheeks the first time my awestruck tears fell upon her. Pink, no longer the hue of her world; she sees gray now with all of the other colors that exist.
This happens when you grow, you know. You learn about rainbows, and you learn about the rain that brings them. You learn about umbrella's that even the most hopeful mommy's don't always carry with them, despite their most sincere intentions.
I swear to you, it was only a moment ago that I first saw her heart beat. It would only make sense, then, that it was a breath ago that I tried to put together all of the changes within my body and tie them to the small blurry being before me on the screen. It was impossible, then.
It remains as such today.
I sit here tonight, a post ten years; a life; in the making, and am adrift in what it has all meant, what it all means. I had assumed that night a decade ago that when she reached this age, there would be so much more that I would know; that I would be confident in my actions, that I wouldn't feel as awkward and hesitant, so unsure of my movements. It was only the first of so many times that I would be wrong when it came to this thing called Motherhood.
Oh, Big A.
What you did to my heart, that moment first I saw you.
I could feel the heart within me rip and twist in ways I'd never known, in just that first second that I peered upon you.
There was a light, so bright, so clear and so true in that moment; it was piercing in its clarity, blinding in its rapture. Everything I had learned up to that moment, unlearned. Everything I thought that I had held dear, lying neglected upon the floor of my life as I worshiped at your alter.
I couldn't sleep, because I had to keep gazing upon you, making promises to you. I remember them, my little girl, and I will keep them. I just hadn't intended on them being so long in the making.
That night, so long and snowy ago. That night, only yesterday, wasn't it, sweet child? Wasn't it then, my little thing, that you first laid within the confines of my arms? Wasn't it only a minute ago that I first caressed your cheeks?
I blinked, and then Ten.