I’m off to focus on being mama for a couple days.
My daughter moves into her residence hall for her first year of college tomorrow morning, so she, her twin brother, and I will be hitting the road in a short while.
Nineteen years ago this week, an ultrasound confirmed that I was having twins. I remember feeling almost excluded from the unique relationship they were developing. They are very different individuals, but they have maintained a level of closeness over the years. When they were little, they had a twin language. Early in their teens, they both fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch after an exhausting school field trip–and just as they did in the womb, when one would turn over in sleep, the other would adjust in response. It was fascinating to observe.
It is strange to know that after today, they will be living completely separate lives. When we take her back for her second semester, her twin brother will have left for basic training. Thinking about this makes my womb ache (which is really something, since I had a hysterectomy a few years ago).
I am excited to launch my daughter into this new adventure in her life, even as I want to protect her from being hurt. I will miss her from my daily life so very much.
Last night, I woke up at 2:30 in the morning to use the restroom. I walked past her room and saw the glow of a laptop. I walked in to see a girl with very anxious eyes. She had her financial aid information open in one window, a message from a new roommate in another, and a completed textbook order in yet another.
I sat on her bed, closed her laptop, stroked her hair, sang her a silly song I used to sing when she was little, and watched my little girl’s eyes close. She needed her mama at that moment. And that’s just what her mama needed, too.