Carrying Her

I was handling bedtime on my own last night, juggling teeth brushing and bedtime books, diapers and drinks of water. Millie stayed up reading books while I was getting the little ones to sleep. Once the last heavy eyelid had closed,  I sneaked out of my bedroom and found Millie curled up on the couch, fast asleep herself. I checked her bed to make sure it wasn't littered with beads and books, then with some effort scooped her up and carried her to bed while she slept. As I turned out her light, I was struck by the fact that I won't be able to do that much longer.

This is the girl that I spent two years carrying in China, on my back, on my front, in taxis, through the rain, in packed crowds and up lonely mountains. I still remember Tom and I laughing with exasperation at the challenge of simultaneously holding a baby and taking off our shoes when we would arrive home to our tiny apartment. We mused that it would be so much easier when she could at least help by hanging on. And now we're down to just a couple more years, maybe, and I won't be able to carry her at all.

It's such an odd mix, this parenthood, and something I've only really been able to appreciate in the last few years. It's amazing seeing them go from being helpless and dependent, to becoming strong, capable people. Saying goodbye to that little person who captured your heart, but being overjoyed at the person they are becoming. For today it makes me want to hold on tight, embracing every bit of it, while I still can.