My son is three, turning four soon. My husband and I are trying to promote independence as much as we can, but my momma heart is still afraid. What if he runs off? What if someone tries to take him? What if someone pushes him down by accident? All of the what ifs run through my brain when we are in public. While we were standing in line he didn’t want to hold my hand, but I couldn’t help but have that hand nearby just in case.
So that is exactly what I am doing in the picture: my hand will always be nearby, little one.
When you were born I held you in my hands, too tight if I am being honest, afraid to drop you. I held your bottle with my hands during those midnight feedings. I let go of your little wobbly body as you were learning to take your first steps. As you walked into daycare, I held your backpack because you didn’t want to hold my hand, but little one I was still nearby.
As you enter elementary school, I will hold your hand if you want or I will have it gently by my side to grab if you need it. When you score your first points in basketball or make your first hole in one, I will clap my hands to show my love and support. With half anxiousness and half confidence, I will show you where to put your hands when learning how to drive. When you walk across that stage to shake your principal’s hand I promise not to shed more than a few tears. Your dad will teach you how to perform a proper handshake and I will help you pick out a ring for that special hand. I hope one day I show you how to hold your own baby, not too tight.