Three of the five remaining state-side Streichers.
Being a mom is the hardest thing in the world.
Today I drove my third-born daughter to the airport and sent her off on a one-way ticket to Asia. She'll be gone for a year, give or take.
I tried not to notice how her face still captures the same exact expressions as when she was a baby.
I tried not to think about how tiny and vulnerable she seems, bitty little hands waving goodbye to me from the other side of the security checkpoint.
I tried not to cry, but settled for wiping away the tears as fast as they fell.
How does this happen, that babies grow old enough to fly away?
Where do the years go, so impossibly quickly?
Why do these same old predictable emotions and motherly cliches still rise up in my heart, even when I have been through these goodbyes many times before, and know perfectly well that everything really is going to be okay?
I don't really have many answers. All I know for sure is this:
Being a mom is the hardest thing in the world.
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