Parenting is often an adventure filled with unexpected moments, and one night certainly exemplified that for me. With three daughters, I was pleasantly surprised when dinner went off without a hitch—no complaints about my cooking, no arguments about who got to talk first, and bedtime went smoothly. I felt a mix of relief and pride, thinking to myself, “I’ve got this.”
Once Finley and Avery were asleep, Briar was waiting in her room. I slid under the covers and shared a sweet nose rub with her. After a few minutes of chatting, she hit me with the big question about babies. This wasn’t the casual curiosity I’d expected; she was genuinely seeking answers.
“How does it happen? Who does what? How does it feel?” Her questions came in rapid succession. I barely had time to gather my thoughts, but in an instant, I knew we were diving into this conversation. For about fifteen minutes, we exchanged questions and answers before she shifted the topic to her library book, leaving me in a bit of a daze as I kissed her goodnight.
Reflecting on that moment, I remembered how in movies and stories, these talks seem so much easier. As I made my way downstairs, I shared the experience with my partner, Jake, joking about how it was his turn next. He laughed, saying, “No way, we have daughters; this is all you!” But I knew they would come to me with their questions.
Last night, Briar approached me again, and this time I felt better prepared. When she didn’t ask anything, I decided to take the lead. Her eyes widened as I spoke.
“Are you okay?” I asked, noticing her blush. She nodded, a hint of a smile on her face.
“I know this feels strange,” I continued, “but it’s important we talk about these things.” She pulled the blankets closer, peeking out with those bright blue eyes.
“Here’s the deal: you don’t have to share everything about your body, just what’s necessary to keep you healthy and safe.” She nodded solemnly.
“I remember when I was your age,” I shared, “I used to check for armpit hair every time I bathed.” I mimicked the act, poking beneath my arm. “I kept waiting, wondering, and then one day, I just stopped paying attention to it. Life goes on, and you’ll have your own experiences. What matters most is that you feel comfortable talking to me.”
She looked thoughtful and nodded, and I could see her processing everything. “I might be nervous too,” I admitted, my voice getting a bit shaky. “But I promise to answer all your questions. And remember, you don’t have to share things with other kids if you don’t want to.”
“Wait, I can lie?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I leaned in and said, “You can keep things private. It’s not lying; it’s just your choice. But if something is bothering you, please talk to me.”
“I promise,” she replied, her cheeks still rosy but her expression brightening. “Thanks, Mom, for everything. For you, for me, for us.”
Overwhelmed with emotion, I hugged her tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Briar.” As I left the room, I let the tears fall, feeling the weight of what we had just shared. I crept down the stairs, replaying our conversation in my mind. I had never felt so out of my depth, yet capable at the same time.
Looking through years of photos on my laptop, I reminisced about her quirky childhood moments, from her little lisp to her attempts at catching shadows. My heart ached with nostalgia as I remembered how far she has come; she’s blossoming into a remarkable young woman.
The journey of motherhood is filled with milestones, and while the years may feel fleeting, the connections we create along the way are lasting. As we stand at the edge of her adolescence, I feel a sense of peace, knowing we’re navigating this new terrain together.
“You did well, Amanda,” I reassured myself. And for the first time, I truly believed it.
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