She grabs my hair.

Kenzy constantly grabbed onto my hair when she was a baby. This didn’t seem particularly unusual or notable at the time. It seemed like a thing babies did. Like many of her infant habits, I thought it was another phase I could barely watch leave my life because I was too busy adjusting to dozens of new ones.

I try not to be a sentimental parent. You would not be able to tell this by looking at my Google Photos. I’m a person who tends to be overwhelmed by human emotion, so some things I just choose to avoid thinking about. Thinking about my baby growing up could be potentially TOO MUCH. I have yet to miss the “baby days” or my sad attempt at breast feeding or the years of endless diapers.

But there are a few ways I’ve measured change that have destroyed me some days. Every morning when she woke up, Kenzy used to walk to me so I could pick her up. Holding her in my arms in the 6am hour when I’m weirdly at my best, I always thought, “I got you.” Well, she doesn’t do that anymore. She’ll legit walk away from me if I try to do it. She only hugs me at my knees, which doesn’t bring the same comfort.

I also told myself “as long as my hand is bigger than the distance from her wrist to her elbow, she is still my baby.” (You have a lot of time to talk to yourself when trying to get your baby to sleep—which is most of parenting in the early days). The other day I was shocked to see my hand could fit nicely in between that area. Ugh.

There is one thing she does that has only grown in intensity over the years: she grabs my hair. Every. Single. Night she pulls my hair and holds in in her hand—sometimes twisting the strings, sometimes rubbing it against her own face, insisting that “it calms me” as she does it. When I get on her level face to face, she immediately reaches for my hair. If she is feeling shy, nervous or tired—she’ll grab on. If she’s in pain, she’ll reach for it almost violently: grabbing it for some kind of emotional safety.

I’ve grown to adore it because I enjoy being such an instant source of comfort for someone. Something about ME, a ball of nerves, actually calms someone! It is a sign, the only one at times, that I’m doing something right. She called me a “dum dum” the other day, the words stinging as they landed. DIDN’T SHE APPRECIATE ALL I HAVE DONE FOR HER?!?! I had to google both the insult and my feelings around it, landing on an article that told me to play the long game and not take it personally. She is only four.

I wasn’t sure I would ever be a mom or that if I was, I knew I could never approach it with the gusto I witness with other moms. But one thing I was sure of was that I could love her every single day of her life and she would FEEL it. The hair grab feels like love. I try not to think about the day she doesn’t reach for it, but when that time comes I’m hopeful there will be other hints along the way confirming I’m not failing the assignment.