All the boxes were packed, the uhaul and cars loaded with all of her things, old and new, that she will need to start her new life.
I walked into her room and although her furniture is still there, most of her personal items are gone and there’s an eerie emptiness about it as the realization settles in that she won’t live here anymore. It’s an odd feeling.
It’s hard to explain how I can be so excited for her, so proud and confident in the woman she’s become, and yet so heartbroken that it’s time for her to leave me.
Before she was born, I wanted to be a mom more than anything. I would imagine her perfect little face, a head full of dark hair, her tiny hand wrapped around my finger. But after two years and a bunch of tests, I was told that because of a uterine abnormality and infrequent ovulation , the chances were slim.
I prayed for her for so long. When I finally got pregnant, I knew she was a girl. I don’t know how I knew but I did. I felt like I knew her, my sweet baby girl, before she was even born. She was my miracle.
The day she was born, we both nearly died. My blood pressure was dangerously high, and they worried that I could have a stroke. The Doctor came in to take me back for the emergency c-section. She told me that the baby’s tests had not looked good, that the only thing they saw to be hopeful about was that her lungs seemed to be functioning, but that she was in a lot of distress and that I should prepare myself that she may very well be stillborn. They said that if she did survive, she would most likely have serious issues that would require a long stay in the NICU.
But God had other plans.
She came out, and had the most perfect, strong, but tiny little cry. I’ll never forget that sound, and the sound of the laughter and clapping from the pediatrician and nurses that were there waiting, fully expecting that they were going to have to try and bring her back to life.
Her existence was a miracle for the second time. And I’ll never forget the relief and the joy in that room as they handed her to her Dad. No sadness. No machines. No NICU. Just 4 lbs and 9 oz of perfection and determination, with that same head full of dark hair that I had imagined.
It’s hard to believe it’s been almost 20 years since that day. It’s gone by so fast. And I’ve loved every minute of it. I haven’t been the perfect mom. I’ve failed her at times. And as mom’s do, I’ve beat myself up about those moments and wished more than anything I could have a do over. But I hope she knows that in all things, the good and the bad, in every moment, I have loved her fiercely, with every fiber of my being.
Her name, Emily, in Latin, means hardworking and conscientious. In Greek it means tender hearted and kind.
Grace in Latin, means God’s favor, and in Greek it means beauty and joy.
She is all of these things and so much more.
Her ambition in life makes us so proud. She has such a capacity for kindness and empathy with people and animals. Of course we all know she likes the animals best though, ha.
She is incredibly beautiful, smart, strong, funny, and talented. And she has brought me more joy than she could ever know.
I remember telling her it was like taking my beating heart out of my chest and handing it over to a stranger to take care of.
Today feels very much the same. Today I left a big part of my heart in Athens.
Home won’t be the same without her there.
Today, I pray blessings over her. I pray for God’s protection, and His favor. I pray the world treats her well. I pray for peace whenever she feels anxious or overwhelmed. I pray for comfort whenever she feels lonely. I pray for prosperity and that her path to success will be clear. I pray for her to have good health. I pray for her to always have confidence and strength. I pray that she will have wisdom in her decision making. I pray for her to have great friends, great opportunities, and I pray for her to have SO much fun.
It was a long day, spent moving, putting together furniture, shopping for the last few needed items and groceries, and making everything look nice.
The apartment is beautiful.
Seeing her here today, in her new room, her new home, I’m not at all worried about her ability to live on her own. She is smart, mature, and independent. She always has been. So I’m not worried. But my goodness, I’m going to miss her. So, so much.
Thankfully she is only a couple of hours away. There will be lots of weekend visits and lots of fun new restaurants and bakeries and places we can explore. And hopefully she will come home often.
I’m pretty sure she will because she will miss this sweet doggie of hers. Don’t worry Em, she will be well loved while you’re away.
She will share the apartment with two of her cousins, and I’m so thankful they will have each other to experience this new beginning with. They started their lives together. They were virtually inseparable as kids and it is so comforting and fun to see the three of them do this part of adulthood together. I know they’ll be good to each other and look out for each other. I am so excited for them and all the fun memories they are going to create there. I hope they enjoy every single minute.
There is so much goodness ahead of her, and I want to hear all about it.
❤️ Amy Thurston Gordy