I watch as my daughter, this former resident of my belly and constant companion, runs away from me at full speed. Her focus is on claiming her independence, a milestone every parent wants their child to reach one day. But does it have to be today?
When was the last time I had been so terrified of doing something I really wanted to do that I sobbed uncontrollably in public, and then did the thing anyway?
We weren't trying. We weren't preventing it either. And yet when I peed on a pregnancy test and two bright pink lines showed up, I stared at it in disbelief.
These friendships are built on a level of trust and vulnerability that I didn't even know I could give or receive until motherhood exposed the rawest moments of my life.
