From the time Emma started to learn how to walk, I was holding her hand. Taking her first wobbly steps across the living room floor from me to her Daddy always began with me holding onto her little hands until she got her balance about her...and I would let go...she would take off, one shaky step after another. Once she reached Daddy she would squeal with delight. Throughout the years I have held her hand on many different occasions. While walking across parking lots, through the store, and into her classroom on the first day of kindergarten. I held her hand as she walked across giant rocks lining the edges of yards. I held it when she was not feeling well and just needed the comfort of her Mommy. I held it (and still do!) every time she had to get bloodwork taken at the hospital. I held it when she was sick with a stomach virus and we had to take her to the ER and they put an IV into her. I tried to soothe her..stroking her hand...holding it tight in mine and assuring her that it would be ok...she would be ok...it would be over soon and everything would be alright. I held her hand in mine as I walked her into her first gymnastics class and she was feeling nervous...it was something new...and there were so many unfamiliar faces...and she was shy. I held it as we trudged up the snowy hill to go sledding together. I held it as she was learning how to ice skate...ankles shaking...wobbling along on the blades of her new skates. I have held her hand in the dark of night as I watch her sleep...praying with everything I have that a cure will be found for her diabetes. I held it in the wee hours of the morning as she is burning with fever..cheeks flushed...sweat pouring off her brow...praying for the illness to pass. I have held her hand in mine for many different reasons in our 8 years together. Yes, her hand is not quite as small as it used to feel anymore. I can't wrap my own hand protectively around her tiny one completely like I used to. At 8 years old, she doesn't necessarily want to hold my hand as much as she used to either...she is getting bigger...it's not as "cool" to hold her Mommy's hand anymore.
That's why when moments come along....something as simple as walking her back to school after lunch...and she grabs ahold of my hand all on her own...just because....it's incredible. It may seem like an insignificant little gesture to her....but to me?.....it melts my heart and reminds me that before I know it, she will be grown...and the moments of holding her Mommy's hand will be even fewer and farther between. So, I tell myself to shut off the D-Mom brain...silence the thoughts of blood sugars, ratios, basals, carbs.....and focus on the moment....remember how it feels to hold her 8 year old hand...remember the small things.