As my daughter nears her fifth birthday, I find myself feeling a profound sense of loss. I’ve navigated this milestone with my three sons, but the emotional weight is just as heavy with her. Five is my least favorite age. It marks a significant transition—the moment when they begin to spread their wings and venture off to kindergarten. This time, the challenge is even greater for me since she is my youngest. I realize that I will never have a little one at home again, and that thought breaks my heart.
I know this may seem dramatic to some. Terms like “heartbreak” and “mourning” carry a lot of weight. Yet, for me, it truly encapsulates my feelings. Turning five signifies the close of a cherished chapter. The baby who spent sleepless nights in my arms, who I nursed for hours, and who once cried at her first taste of peas is preparing to leave the nest. Yes, I will always be her mother, but the days of her total dependence on me are numbered, and it’s difficult to accept.
I’ve sensed this shift ever since I enrolled her in preschool. Those few half-days each week have equipped her with essential skills. She can wait her turn, drink from a cup independently, and even handle bathroom trips without my assistance. She has learned to write her name with impressive accuracy, all in preparation for the independence that comes with kindergarten just around the corner.
I fully support her growth. I love the artwork she proudly shows me after coloring meticulously within the lines and her enthusiastic recitation of “The Pledge of Allegiance.” But I can’t help wishing to hold onto her four-year-old self just a little while longer. Four is such a magical age. She can engage in meaningful conversations, sing along to her favorite songs, and play games like Old Maid with me. Despite her growing independence, she still enjoys snuggling up for a quick nap after a busy morning at preschool, clinging to those last remnants of babyhood.
Recently, she developed the habit of sneaking into our bed during the night. While I know I should guide her back to her own room, I can’t bear to do it. This is my last chance to enjoy those fleeting moments with a little one. My nearly 13-year-old son certainly isn’t seeking midnight hugs anymore. When I asked her why she comes in at night, she said, “Because I think about where you are and I miss you.” It’s hard not to cherish that.
As she approaches five, her independence is becoming more pronounced. She insists on privacy in the bathroom and wants to change clothes without anyone around. After her bath, she brushes her own hair and goes to clean her teeth unprompted. In the mornings, she chooses her outfits and is quite vocal about her preferences. If I try to help zip up her coat, she’ll firmly take over and start again. Just yesterday, I was fastening her into her car seat, and now she handles it all herself. How can time fly so rapidly?
We’re nearing the time for homework and packed lunches. She’ll wear a uniform come fall, with her only choice being a bow and shoes. Her cousin is already in kindergarten, and she’s eager to follow in her footsteps. I registered her for kindergarten last month, and I shed tears as I drove away from the school. She’s ready, yet I’m still grappling with the reality of it. Where has that baby gone? Why can’t time slow down just a bit?
However, my desire to keep her four isn’t fair to her. She has a bright future ahead, filled with excitement. Every morning, she rides along with me to drop her brothers off at school, her face lighting up when she sees the playground she’ll soon enjoy. She waves at the teachers taking temperatures and distributing hand sanitizer. If I say that sending her to kindergarten during a pandemic doesn’t contribute to my sadness, I’d be lying. But that’s the world we live in.
She is beautiful, intelligent, and strong. Great things await her, and it all begins at five. I can already picture her shining in her first Christmas program and displaying her artwork on our fridge. We’ll tackle homework and practice sight words together. We will embrace this new age and conquer it as a team. But until then, I’m savoring every last moment of being four. I’ll continue to take afternoon trips to Target and enjoy spontaneous outings with her and her cousin. We’ll wear matching “mommy and me” shirts of her choosing, and I’ll gladly make room for her in bed each night because this phase is so brief.
Though I may never experience having a four-year-old again, there will be countless adventures at five, six, seven, and beyond. I am truly honored to be their mother. While I miss the early years, I see them blossoming into incredible individuals, and their lives are becoming richer by the day. When the time comes to say goodbye to four, I will embrace five and all the joy it brings. Turning five signifies new adventures, and I’m ready for the wild journey ahead.
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Summary:
My daughter is soon turning five, and the thought brings me mixed emotions. As the last of my children to reach this milestone, I feel a deep sense of loss as she prepares to start kindergarten. While I celebrate her growth and independence, I find it hard to let go of the cherished moments of her being four. Despite my struggles, I know this new age will bring exciting adventures, and I’m committed to enjoying every moment while holding on to the essence of her childhood.
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