Once I saw Fudge's teacher breakdown in tears reading little messages written by our girls and boys to tell her just how much she meant to them, I had to walk away; biting my lip until I got it together. I had to squelch the great flood of emotions that welled up when she cried openly and honestly; shaking with raw emotion, while my daughter stood next to her with a big smile looking up at her teacher with love and a strength that I could not muster when she read her little note "What I liked best about Ms X's class was learning about God's creation."
I wish I could calmly have placed my arm around her and tell her everything will be OK, but I knew I would've sobbed alongside her; sensing the intensity of what she felt alongside mine. I felt torn and wanted to understand and feel the gravity of it all. I wanted to feel the pain. It felt appropriate to question myself, to allow myself to feel lost and wondering, but I also expected myself to get up, take a breath and move forward.
So I hugged her and told her how much she meant to our girl Fudge, because she did. It was the conclusion to a chapter in our girls' education and we are moving forward towards another. If we decide to make changes I will allow for it to happen without judgement or regret. We are not perfect, but I expect myself to do my best and to have faith in God while squarely focused on raising our girls the best we can.
