The Little Girl Grew Up

We went out for dinner on Mother’s Day and as I was walking to bed I felt something run down my leg. I looked down and my journey began. My mucus plug had come out. From that moment and still today I can feel my body shedding physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. The little girl in me grew up.

With each contraction she grew strength and courage. I’m telling myself, “I got this, it’s going to be okay, breathe.” She was still scared but saw something different in us. Even she said, “We got this.”

As I stripped my clothes off and tied the gown in the mirror, I felt like I put way more than just the clothes down. I put everything down and only brought the little girl, my son, and myself to lie in the bed. God promised us a long time ago that when this day happened, He promised it would be different.

We sat silently for the next twenty-one hours with the unknown, waiting for God’s promise. Family visited, we laughed, we cried, but inside we were silent. It was just the little girl, my son, and me.

I don’t think the epidural wore off accidentally. I think it was very intentional. It was the shedding and the bath that my spirit needed to let it all out one last time. I wasn’t screaming in pain. The little girl finally got to let it all out for the very first time and for the very last time.

With each contraction every fear, belief, insecurity, sadness, and anger was shedding off of my body and out of our spirit. I looked up. The little girl looked up. My partner was looking at me, but looking at her with connection, security, and strength. She had never looked at a man and felt safe until that moment.

My son’s spirit gave the little girl hope.

“God said it was going to be okay when I got here.”

My son made his exit physically. The doctors pulled him out and laid him on my chest. My son’s dad was standing over me, but we were not there.

The little girl, my son, and I rose up to God’s arms intertwined, all connected for the first time. The first thing I remember, and we all experienced together, was my son being held by his dad.

The little girl in me stared. I stared.

“We didn’t have a dad, but he does.”

God’s promise was coming to life. It was already so different.

We are all growing up. And time is going fast. It’s going to be different, but it will be fast. My promise to us is that we will make the most out of it.

Twenty-eight years, but the little girl just got here.

I work out to live longer for them. I brush my hair, clean my face, and wear pink as if the little girl is sitting in a chair and I’m grooming her. Graylan’s playlist is the little girl’s favorite songs. Graylan’s playlist is now all of our playlist.

At first the little girl was invited and welcomed to be herself and share with Graylan. She decorated his room, our house, cooked dinners, tried new things, came up with family ideas that she longed for as a child, and brought them to life.

She nurtured Graylan in a way that she always wanted to be cared for. We became one. We are no longer making up for lost time or searching for what we need. The little girl’s heart is safe and filled.

She walked inside of me fearlessly. I am that little girl today.

We have everything we need, and each day that I wake up and create a day for my son with his dad that is filled with family, safety, security, love, direction, and stability, I shed off the mask and shield that was never meant for me.

“God said it was never supposed to be like that, but when this day happens I promise it will be different.”

I walk past my mirror to lay Graylan in his bed. He is in the softest onesie I could find. I’m in my black robe and can see the lace of my silk blue pajama set underneath.

I don’t see the little girl or myself.

I see an older version of myself. My skin has aged. My hair is shorter and thinner. I’m walking to bed by myself, looking into the mirror and seeing the little girl, my son, and myself.

I look down at my hands sometimes and get visions of them aged with wrinkles, maybe bruises from the blood thinners.

God said it would be different.

But it’s going to be fast.