She is Growing Up too Fast and I am Terrified
I darted straight up in bed, a thin layer of sweat covering my body and blinked a few times to gain my bearings. The house was dark and quiet sans the sounds of my beagle, Piper, snoring. Jack and Joy formed two bumps under the blankets and Bud was softly breathing in the dog bed next to mine. I could not hear the Beagle puppies in the playpen in the next room so I knew they were sleeping peacefully as well. My mind was racing, images from a bad dream spinning out of control as I gained consciousness back.
She is Growing Up too Fast and I am Terrified.
Seven years. Over and over I said that to myself. Seven years.
In seven years she will be 18. She will have picked a college. She will be driving. She will have had her first broken heart, will have experienced the loss of a beloved pet, will have hated me for at least three of those years.
She will have pushed boundaries, experienced the things I try to protect her from and flexed her wings in an attempt to spread them.
I am not ready.
I don’t have anything in place. Her college fund is not up to par. The lessons I want to implant are not complete. Her self-confidence not secure enough to handle the challenges of the real world.
I am not ready to not to see her face everyday. Not to be included in her everyday life. Not to be the most important thing to her.
I am not ready.
This daughter of mine, who has two sisters right behind her in age, is going to be gone soon. The first 11 years went by so quickly that these last seven will fly.
How am I supposed to do it? To let her go? To let her fly? To let her love and hurt and suffer and soar?
How am I supposed to teach her everything in such a short time? Even I did nothing else, there would still be more to teach.
She is growing up too fast and I am terrified.