It seems as though when my baby was first born, her hand instantly found mine. Her new little fingers grasped my finger tightly. I cupped her tiny fist with my remaining fingers and held on. “I will always hold your hand”, I thought to myself.
During all of her “firsts”, I was right there holding her hand. At the doctors office, I was leaning close by, whispering soothing words, and holding her sweet little hands during her first shots. Seated in my lap with one hand holding a baby spoon and the other holding her hand, I fed her her first foods. A long car ride stuck in traffic left her feeling cranky. All it took was twisting my arm back and taking her hand in mine to calm her down. And of course the ultimate in baby hand holding moments, her first steps. She clung on extra tight during those moments.
My first daughter was incredibly independent. Still is. She wasn’t the “hold Mama’s hand” type. I must have been too slow for her energetic little self. But Baby Z, my third child, is completely the opposite. Wherever we may be, she raises her tiny little arm and extends her hand to meet mine. Holding her sweet little hand in mine melts my heart every time. As long as she’s willing to offer it, I will take it. She trusts that wherever I may lead her will be of something that interests her. New books, towards the swings, crossing the street to pick some flowers; I never disappoint.
As she gets older and begins to wonder about all that surrounds her, I will be right there holding her hand to guide her. Straight from my heart through to hers, I will instill a love of learning, creativity, and wonder, simply by holding her hand as she embarks on any given journey. I hope that by holding her hand I can give her a sense of safety and support before she let’s go to explore. There is a special magic that is held between the hands of a mother and child.
Through all of her future firsts; first trip to the dentist, first day of school, first soccer game — I will always hold her hand.