Daddy and I just dropped you off – it’s your first day of Kindergarten.
Right about now I’m supposed to say, “That just flew by!”, or “Where did the time go?”. But I’d be lying if I said those words – I’d be trying to blend in with the other parents. We didn’t get to take the path where time flies. Our path was long and uphill, with a lot of rough terrain.
But you know what, Gia? You did it. You earned your spot in that classroom. I couldn’t have done this for you. I couldn’t have gotten you here on my own. I gave you the boat, but it was your job to paddle. You’ve worked tirelessly for every word you have. Every. Single. Word. From therapy, to doctors, to preschool and back – your work never stopped.
And you know something else, Gia? You never complained about it. Not once.
I’ve spent the last two years advocating in your fight to be heard. It’s been really hard. At times it had more ups and downs than mommy could take. But it was your attitude that kept me going. It was your strength that pulled me forward.
Now here I am, sitting in an empty house, feeling a little lost without you. I miss you deeply. My calendar looks so empty. It’s been you and me against apraxia. We’re a team…I feel like I’ve lost my partner.
I’ll be honest though, Gia…I’m a little tired. I could really use a break. A nap sounds kinda nice. A pedicure sounds even nicer. I could use some lunch dates with daddy and some morning coffee with your Aunt Trish.
So today is bitter sweet. It’s a day I’ve both feared and looked forward to.
I did everything I could to get you ready for this moment. But today, as we made our way up to your new school, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had done enough. With your hand in mine, we walked into a classroom full of Kindergarteners. My head was spinning with questions I felt desperate to know the answer to – will your peers understand you? Accept you? Make fun of you? Will you struggle with Reading? Writing? Dyslexia?
Did I do enough?
In your own little way, you brought me peace and turned off all the noise. You looked so at home in that classroom – so happy and self-assured – so ready. It was clear, you were right where you wanted to be – where you needed to be.
So I grabbed your heart-shaped little face, looked you right in those big blue eyes and said goodbye with a kiss. I slowly made my way out the door, watching you as I left. But I couldn’t leave just yet. I needed just one last picture. So with camera in hand, I ran back to greet you at your desk. But you, Gia, you greeted me back with exactly the words I needed to hear…
“Mom, you gotta go!”
I’m so proud of you, Gia. Today is your day!