Today my heart broke just a little bit – the tiniest little crack that I’d put aside especially for this moment.
It was the day of her first period. I knew it was coming, the writing was on the wall and maybe I even felt it just a little bit, the same way I felt her kick before she arrived.
For the last few months I had been watching and waiting – almost rejoicing as she went another month without a sign. Each time, hoping the inevitable could be delayed if I kept my fingers crossed and ignored the probability.
This month, however was different. My beautiful 11 year old was on camp when she had an inkling – and perhaps I did too, as sentimental as it sounds, I’m sure I felt ‘a’ moment.
Lying in bed that same night, missing the comfort of all the beds in the house being filled, I knew the time was near – I’d even silently diarised the next weekend to have an extra little chat.
It’s not the growing up, apart, or even the speeding pre-teen years it’s more the biting realisation of change. It’s ‘the curse’ that’s upsetting, the loss of innocence or easiness that makes my heart ache just a little bit.
The momentous occasion was news for the whole family – in recognition of the event, her dear dad was directed to have a slug of wine prior to sharing. Unlike my dad’s generation, he’s involved in all aspects of her life and it was important to make him part of this too.