Dailyprompt-1862

One of the hardest phases to say goodbye to was when my children were little.

The sticky hands.
The bedtime stories.
The way they would crawl into my bed in the middle of the night.
The unquestioned “Mama” as if I was their entire world.

You don’t notice it ending.

There is no ceremony.
No announcement.
Just small shifts.

They start closing their bedroom doors.
They make plans with friends.
They don’t need help tying shoes anymore.
They stop reaching for your hand automatically.

And you are proud.

So incredibly proud.

But somewhere inside, you are also quietly grieving.

Because motherhood changes form.

It doesn’t disappear — it evolves.

Now the conversations are deeper.
Now the hugs are taller.
Now they come to me with thoughts instead of scraped knees.

And I wouldn’t go backwards.

But I do sometimes miss the weight of a small sleeping child against my chest.

Some phases end gently.
Not because they were bad.
But because they did exactly what they were meant to do.

They grew.

And so did I.

— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫