Last night, with some of our closest friends, Olive celebrated turning eight. (Who am I kidding? She’s been celebrating for weeks now… and will continue another two at least, but anyway...)
What she didn’t know, was that while she was celebrating turning eight, I was celebrating the last seven.
Each fall is such an emotional hurricane for me. It’s my favorite season. While I love all things summer, I’ve always joyfully traded in the Midwest humidity for fuzzy sweaters, boots and bonfires on chilly nights. Year after year, I am astonished at the beauty of changing leaves and just recently identified what one of my favorite feelings about fall is (thanks Instagram!)
“The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let dead things go.”
And I realized, I’ve never waited for spring to start fresh.
Just as every fall has ushered the end of one thing and the beginning of something crisp and lovely, fall of 2009 delivered an exceptionally special gift that year... Olive!
I couldn’t wait to do all things fall with my new little Snoedel! Snuggle her cozily under a blanket while sipping cider. Dress my little turkey up for Thanksgiving with our family. I imagined everyone excitedly passing her around, cooing at her and tickling her tootsies in between downs, the football game on in the background. This fall would be full of unforgettable moments and would no doubt be the best fall yet.
What I didn’t know is that while this fall WOULD be full of unforgettable moments, but we wouldn’t do any of the wonderful things that I had imagined. In fact, not only would 2009 cast a dark and scary cloud over my beloved season but it would also perpetuate my disdain for all things winter.
There are so many things I didn't know, that I learned that fall.
For starters, I didn't know I could fall so ridiculously in love with someone I'd just met and how terrifying true love actually is. I didn't know what complete powerlessness felt like. Or how to bargain with God. I learned that the moment in movies when someone gets terrible news- time actually stops. That everyone around you keeps moving, but that you are frozen and every single thing else in your life ceases to exist in that moment. I didn't know how it felt to fully trust and place absolute faith in a complete stranger when they take your newborn daughter into surgery.
I didn't know that I would see Olive crawl, or walk or hear the first precious “Mama” escape her lips. I didn't know she would ride a bike or star in commercials or make me cry dropping her off on her very first day of school.
I didn't know she would be a great friend, encouraging bravery and bringing comfort to her peers. I didn't know I would one day make unicorn poop cookies… or that anyone could be so gleeful about a cookie with the word “poop” in the name.
I didn’t know the motivation that this little person would inject into my life. That she would be the source of the strength and endurance I found in myself to finish college, amidst working and raising a toddler single-handedly. I didn’t know how much one person could *actually* accomplish with only twenty-four hours in a day.
I didn’t know that Olive would be the fuel I needed to cross finish lines. And set records. And break records!
And I couldn't have known that she would be the reason I would find the courage to leave anything that wasn’t good for us. And to chase the things that were meant for us, but seemingly out of reach.
At one point, I didn’t know if we would do any of the things I had hoped to do. From the smallest milestones to the largest feats. But I’ve learned lots of things along the way- about what I didn’t know.
And there are still a lot of things I don’t know.
But one thing I do know, is that this little girl will change the world.
Because she already has.
Happy 8th birthday, Snoedel. Mommy loves you, even more than you know <3
