Missing Teeth and Milestones

It's a rare day when I struggle to find the words to express my feelings, but that's exactly where I'm at.

Last week Keelie lost her first tooth. Now, I understand that since she got her first tooth early, at three months of age, it stands to reason that she would lose her first tooth early as well, as in age four years old. But I was still taken by surprise when that little tooth began to wiggle its way out, preparing the way for the adult tooth behind it. Yes, you read that right. Adult tooth.

When my other children lost their first teeth it was an exciting time marked by a visit from the tooth fairy. The tooth fairy did not visit Keelie because . . . Well, I'll just go ahead and say it: She just doesn't get it--yet.

I understand that no matter who you are, or what your children are like, these kinds of milestones are always bitter-sweet. Milestones like losing teeth mark the steady march our children make along the path to adulthood, each step taking them further from infancy, through childhood, up the steep hill of adolescence, and finally out into the real world. But, while physically Keelie's body is making the journey forward, her mind is not. And milestones like these always bring that reality back to me. Her developmental milestones will likely never match her physical growth.

Don't get me wrong, she's made some big strides in her short life, meeting developmental milestones I struggled to believe she'd ever reach. In fact, she's talking so much now I'm going to have to delete the list of her growing vocabulary from the sidebar of the blog--it's just too big now. I'm thrilled by this because there was a time when I wondered if I'd ever get to hear the sound of her voice, let alone have a real conversation with her.

But I have to say that it's extremely difficult, and even painful, for me to imagine her some years in the future when her body has completed the journey from infancy to adulthood, her hair no longer falling in baby ringlets, her cheeks no longer rosy and full, but her mind is suspended somewhere along the path. Really, it breaks my heart.

I console myself with the kisses she so freely offers, the little songs she sings at the dinner table or around the house, and the oh-so-cute toothless smile she openly shares with me and the rest of the world.