Sensitive Rosie

Ever since we met that July day in the hospital, I tend to get emotional thinking about my daughter's future. I frequently imagine her as a little girl, then as a preteen, as an older teenager, and finally a young woman. My eyes mist the most when I imagine her as a mother. This is all ridiculous, I realize, because she may never be a mom - either by choice or by circumstance. But she will grow up, and that will happen faster than I am willing to admit.

Truth be told, Miss Rosie is a sensitive one - she cries hysterically when I turn on the garbage disposal and screeches when we run the blender. I try so hard to prepare her for the noises, but no amount of preparation will take the edge off of being startled into tears.  It's hard, watching and hearing her cry so hard.

And I know that this sensitivity isn't going anywhere. That's okay; I lean to the sensitive side myself. I can relate to those see-saw feelings when life is out of balance. It almost as if I can see my baby girl as a someday-teenager, struggling to develop her identity and understand her changing body. I can feel her teetering on the see-saw of balance, desperately trying to understand all the pieces that beautifully make up her whole essence. And I know that I have to prepare myself now to be open to her questions, her curiosities, and her tears. She deserves that from her mother.

*I was motivated to write this post by The Body Scoop for Girls: A Straight Talk Guide to a Healthy, Beautiful You, by Jennifer Ashton, MD, OB/Gyn. I received a complimentary copy of the book as part of the Silicon Valley Moms Group bookclub.