In just a month, my little girl will celebrate her fifth birthday, and I find myself feeling a deep sense of loss already. I’ve experienced this milestone with my three sons, but the heartache feels just as profound with her. Five is, without a doubt, my least favorite age. It signifies a transition, as she spreads her wings and prepares to embark on her kindergarten journey. This time, it’s particularly tough for me because she is my youngest. The reality that I will never have a baby at home again weighs heavily on my heart.
I know that to many, my feelings may seem excessive. Words like “heartbreak” and “mourning” carry a weight, but they resonate deeply with me. Turning five feels like the conclusion of a cherished chapter. That tiny baby who used to keep me up at night, the one who took her time adjusting to solid foods and challenged me during potty training, is now ready to venture out into the world, leaving me behind. While I know I’ll always be her mother, the intense dependence we shared is slipping away, and that’s hard to reconcile.
Since enrolling her in preschool, I’ve been aware that this moment was approaching. Those few half-days each week have equipped her with so many new skills. She can wait patiently, drink from a cup, and even clear her own plate. I no longer need to assist her in the bathroom, and she is practicing her letters with such care and enthusiasm. All these preparations are leading her toward independence, with kindergarten just around the corner.
I don’t want to hold her back; she deserves to flourish. I cherish the artwork she proudly shows off after meticulously coloring within the lines, and I could listen to her recite “The Pledge of Allegiance” endlessly, her hand placed over her heart. But if I’m honest, I wish I could savor her four-year-old self just a little longer. Four is enchanting. We can engage in delightful conversations, sing along to her favorite tunes, and enjoy cozy afternoons watching movies together. When she snuggles up to me for a quick nap after a busy morning, I breathe in every precious moment of her remaining babyhood.
Lately, she’s developed the habit of sneaking into our bed at night. I know I should guide her back to her own space, but I can’t bring myself to do it. This is my last opportunity to experience having a little one close by. My almost-teenage son certainly doesn’t come in for a midnight hug anymore. When I asked her why she comes to find me, she said, “Because I think about where you are and I miss you.” How could I not cherish that sentiment?
As she nears five, her independence is blossoming. She demands privacy in the bathroom and insists on being alone when changing clothes. After her bath, she confidently brushes her own hair and heads straight to the sink for her teeth. In the mornings, she chooses her outfits and has strong opinions about what she likes or dislikes. Attempting to help her zip her coat is met with a fierce “no.” It seems like only yesterday when I was buckling her into her car seat, tightly wrapping her in a blanket for safety. And now, she does it all by herself with such pride. How did we get here so fast?
We’re on the verge of homework and packed lunches. This fall, she’ll wear a uniform, with only the choice of a bow and shoes left to her. Her cousin is starting kindergarten this year, and she can’t wait to match her. I registered her for kindergarten last month, and I found myself in tears as I drove away from the school. She’s ready, but I’m still grappling with the reality. Where has my baby gone? Why can’t time just slow down a bit? I wish for just a little more time.
Yet, holding her back from this exciting new chapter isn’t fair. She has a whole world waiting for her, and she’s bursting with excitement. As we drive to drop her brothers off at school, her smile lights up when she sees the playground she’ll soon be playing on. She waves at the teachers conducting temperature checks and handing out hand sanitizer. I’d be lying if I said the thought of sending her to kindergarten during a pandemic wasn’t part of my sadness, but it’s the world we live in.
She is beautiful, smart, and strong. Great things await her, and it all begins at five. I know my girl will embrace the world with open arms, and I can’t wait to witness her journey. I’ll be there to cheer at her first holiday program and proudly display her artwork on our refrigerator. Together, we will tackle homework and practice sight words. We’ll face five as a team, but until the very last moment, I’ll cling to the magic of four. We’ll enjoy spontaneous trips to Target and skip school on occasion so she can spend time with her cousin. We’ll continue to wear matching shirts of her choosing, and I’ll make room in my bed every night she needs me. Little ones grow up so fast.
While I may never have another four-year-old, I will have five, six, seven, eight, and many more years beyond that. I feel blessed to be chosen as their mother. Even as I miss the early years, I see them becoming more incredible and their lives richer. When the time comes to say goodbye to four, I will embrace five and be grateful for the adventures it brings. Turning five means a world of fun, and I can’t wait for the wild ride ahead.
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Summary: As my daughter approaches her fifth birthday, I reflect on my bittersweet feelings about this significant milestone. While I mourn the passing of her four-year-old phase, I also recognize the excitement and independence that comes with turning five. I cherish every moment we have together, knowing that this transition is essential for her growth.