Well, here we are.
It’s already happened.
Tomorrow marks the end of a chapter, the passing of an era. Tomorrow, our “year” together will officially be over. Tomorrow, we’ll already be facing that moment I’ve dreaded so much—the one I’ve tried so hard not to think about, so I could savor every moment with you, but which, despite everything, has been hanging over our heads.
Starting tomorrow, someone else will have the chance to cuddle my baby all day long, and I find that so unfair. That person will have the privilege of witnessing all those little things that I’ll now miss out on. That person—even though I chose them—won’t act the same way I do, which will mean a big change for you.
Starting tomorrow, I’ll lose some of my importance, your attachment to me will start to fade, and it hurts to think about it.
Tonight, my heart is heavy because soon you won’t be the person you are today anymore. You’ll grow up fast, and I’ll have missed so much of it because I was at work. Life is unfair, and tonight I’m a little resentful of it…
Still, I’m working really hard to look on the bright side of all this. After all, tomorrow is also the start of something new. It’s the start of our daily routine as a family of four—the very one I’ve long dreamed of having. It’s also the start of your independence. Because as painful as it may be, a mother’s job is, above all, to teach her child to live without her. It’s also the start of a certain freedom: projects, trips, getaways.
An end, a beginning, a new start… After all, that’s what life is: a cycle through which we do everything in our power to seize every moment, every little joy, and every precious instant, because life flies by at breakneck speed.
Tonight, I’m torn. I’m torn, but confident.
I’m sad, but optimistic.
Tonight, my baby, above all, I have faith in us.