Ready

I’m not ready. I’m lying in a hospital bed being prepped for an emergency C-section. I was still a few days away from my due date. I was in labor. My water broke. The baby was in distress. It was time, but I wasn’t ready. I was about to become a mom for the first time. With all my heart, I wanted to be a good mom. I read “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” and “What to Expect the First year”. No amount of reading or well-intentioned advice from “experts” can prepare you for the awesome reality of parenting. It was happening. In a few minutes, a new human being would enter the world. I was scared. I was excited. I was worried. I had so many hopes and dreams for her future. But right now, I just wanted her to be born healthy. I felt the sting of the needle as the first shot of anesthesia was administered to my back. I could see the larger needle and syringe lying on the tray, ready to deliver the spinal anesthesia that would numb me from the neck down for the surgery. I closed my eyes and prayed hard, that she would be alright and that I would be a good mom.

I’m not ready. It was time to go back to work. My daughter was only a few months old. I sat in the parking lot with the baby seat in the back, facing away from me. I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was asleep. The car ride always lulled her to sleep. I felt panicked as I slowly unbuckled my seatbelt. Tex was off fulfilling his Naval duties. I had to do this. I opened the back door and her sleepy eyes looked up at me. I unhooked the car seat from the base and slowly walked up the steps. I would be handing her over to a caregiver for the day. I wasn’t ready. My vision was blurred with tears as I drove to work. I prayed, “Please God, watch over her and keep her safe”.

I’m not ready. She was still a sophomore in high school and had just gotten her freshly minted driver’s license. She was heading off to school in her car, on her own, for the first time. This is where it starts. This is the first step towards a life of independence. While I like to think I can protect her from all ills for the rest of her life, that was not reality. Like a baby bird being nudged out of the nest by the momma bird, I had to nudge her on to spread her wings and build her confidence in the world. I could see her taillights at the end of the street. Her left blinker was on. And just like that, she was out of view. I prayed for angels to watch over her and protect her behind the wheel and in every situation she would face as she made her way in the world as a strong, resilient, young woman.

I’m not ready. If we didn’t leave now, we would miss the flight from Denver to Norfolk. I can’t leave now. A couple hours earlier, we watched our basic cadet walk into Doolittle Hall to begin her journey at the United States Air Force Academy. When we made travel plans, the schedule was mapped out. We would drop her off and head to the airport. We didn’t know what to expect. When we got to the Academy we learned that there was a chance for one last look at our cadet before she got on the bus that would take her to the cadet area to begin her military training. For 18 years, she had been my teacher and I was her nurturer, protector, coach, cheerleader and confidant. For the next six weeks, she would be on her own facing her biggest life challenge yet. I wouldn’t be able to help, comfort, console or do anything. There was no way I was leaving. I joined the throng of parents just waiting in the bus loop for that last peek. We were on the sidelines now. In more ways than one. She came around the corner walking single file in a line of basic cadets with a bag in her left hand. Her gaze was straight ahead, focused, serious. She stepped on to the bus. And just like that, she was out of view. As the bus pulled away my heart broke. I wasn’t ready; I wanted to give her just one more hug and whisper words of encouragement in her ear. I sat in silence with a heavy heart and tears rolling down my face on the drive to the airport. We had missed our plane. We would have to figure out a plan when we got there. I had no regrets. I would miss that plane every day of the week for that final glimpse. Tex and I spent hours in the airport waiting for our new flight. I got some paper and an envelope and wrote her a letter; the first of dozens to come. And I prayed for God to give her strength, favor and wisdom for the trial ahead.

I’m not ready. The wedding is just a few weeks away. She’s in love, and so very happy. We’ve been blessed with frequent visits from our USAF Captain who is stationed less than 3 hours drive away. I look forward to those mini adventures on the weekends when she is able to come home: Broadway, hair salons, galas, wine festivals, movies, ice cream shops, or just curled up on the couch binge watching Ted Lasso. The winds of change are blowing again, and my heart is breaking all over again. She is transitioning from Ms. to Mrs. She is starting a new chapter in her story with her beloved husband. I comfort myself with the vision of beautiful grandbabies bouncing on my knee. That helps, a little. I see the joy in her eyes when she looks at him, and that helps too. I have so much to be grateful for, yet I find myself feeling weepy. I’m not ready for another big change. I’ve been letting go little by little over many years, and it’s still hard. Change is hard. But change is necessary. Without change, there is no growth, no breakthroughs, no progress. I will treasure all the memories of our young military family, moving to new towns, finding our way together, being there with and for each other, and maturing together. The story is still being written. There are new adventures ahead, new memories to be made, new frontiers to conquer. I thank God for his goodness and faithfulness to our family over the years, and pray for God’s blessings on the new couple as they launch their franchise and prepare to make their mark on the world.

It’s time…to get ready.