Pregnancy is truly a miracle.

The growing of another human – or humans! A precious few months. Anticipation. Excitement. Nervousness.

The private moments of the mysterious movements beneath your skin. The taps. Hiccups. Bumps.

Then one day, birth. We are told the pain is coming – some of us take classes to prepare.

There is no real preparation for the pain – we want to run away from it, but we can’t. So we focus, breathe, and after some time…the tiny human is removed from us. The cord is cut.

The first separation.

Years of snuggles, one on one care. Never more than a fingertip away. Carrying them because you have to…and you want to. Smelling sweet baby scalps, kissing elbow dimples, watching and waiting for firsts…first smiles, laughs, or words. They are totally dependent on us.

Then slowly, they are not.

Chubby legs that kicked as they lay in their crib start to crawl. Hesitantly, they stand…balance…walk. All too soon, they are running.

Foe the next few years, we are chasing them.

Trying to protect them from dangers seen and unseen. Clasping their hands tight as we cross the street. Hovering close as they play in the park. Escorting them to the bathroom.

Then they start school. We smile reassuringly as they climb the enormous steps on the bus.

Then we walk back into the house…alone.

Our baby is now in the hands of strangers all day. We wait to see them, excited to hear their tales, and cherish the papers they bring us.

Fast forward, too fast, to high school graduation. We remember our own ceremony, and our gut clinches as we look at the future looming ahead – a future they barrel into, fearless, even as we dread it.

They are legal adults now. Making decisions that are good, and bad. Our parent hearts rejoice when they succeed, and we spend sleepless nights in anxious worry when they go off on a path we know will not end well.

Each milestone is a further separation – marriage. Having a family. Moving out into their own lives.

They always remain attached to our hearts, though….that’s the one place the cleaving is never complete.