A hot, buttery knife, that one

It's a simple, frank conversation as she's getting out of the tub. As I begin to towel her off, this little person looks into my face with my very same eyes and says,

"You know, when I'm old I'm living close to my Daddy because I live close to you now."

Within the length of a few seconds the following happens:

My heart jumps from its place in my ribcage to – I swear it – the back of my mouth.

Then drops so far below me and this building that prehistoric cave dwellers could only find it. The scars of the huge black nothingness that used to live where all of my warm, lovely bits are stored now, begin to tingle. I thought I had forgotten emptiness.

My brain pulls me back into the right parts of my body so I can form an intelligible response to my tiny human.

But I fear, my response is not the right one:

"You don't want to live closer to Mommy, when you grow up?"

I look at her, try to picture her face more oval than round. What will she look like? How will she wear her hair? Will she hate me? Will we be close? Will we talk at all? A million questions swarm at my mind and threaten to escape to my heart, stirring somewhere in my throat.

"You can live there too. With me and Daddy." She's matter-of-fact. I know I'm taking this to heart but it's a conversation I've dreaded about a scenario I've dreaded, ever since the word separating became a thing I had to feel.

I try to convince her it's a long way off, change the subject. But there it is.

I've been halved, maybe even quartered, by a four year old.

An earnest, equality seeking four year old.

That's thing though, I guess I'm doing it right if she's able to predict herself as healthily able to detach from me.

That's the thing you don't think about until it's too late. How much of a privilege it is to grow a person. To have someone who unconditionally loves you, and listens (sometimes) to and looks up to you.

You! A person they ultimately have no former knowledge of outside of this all-encompassing role you've played in the brief entirety of their lives and you have this unimaginable honor to get to see into so much of the formation of their lives. Unimaginable.

And it's such a gift but the best and worst part is when it's over.

Because when she's finally 18 and I'm finally "free" of the responsibility of her, I'll have known her that long and I already know now I won't ever want to give her up.

Wow, they should have me, feeling 75% of the heartbreak of empty nest syndrome approximately 13 years too early, go teach abstinence classes to high school–or middle schoolers, whoever–to scare them out of getting pregnant.

Because if I was 12 year old Jenn watching 31 year old Jenn cry my way through a presentation about how much I love my daughter, it would confuse and frighten the crap out of me.

Actually they shouldn't have me go, because having a child out of wedlock was the pivotal action that shocked me out of my selfish husk and started the chain of events that has led me here. To my most favorite time in my life ever.

Everything is a gift. You just have to see it with the right eyes.