In the books, last night's game was a loss for our team. In my mind and heart, scores are not what I will take with me. When you coach a group of kids, you always wonder - did we do enough, did we do too much, are we doing it right? The answer is no. But somehow, those kids take all the heaps of information and their ambition and joy and form a team - even on that first game night, and that in the end is what they will take with them. I am so thankful to be a witness to that.
But I have to move from Coach to Mom to tell my story. Last night I saw my little girl, who will always be 3 years old somewhere in my head, stand on a pitcher's mound for the first time. She stood there and pitched 2 innings. They weren't spectacular, but it was her poise and control that actually moved me to tears (privately and briefly, to not embarrass myself or my kid). It was one of those moments when you step back and see your child grow up right in front of your eyes. I was awestruck by her strength and ability to block out the pressure, the noise, the last passed ball, the runners on the bases. She never fell apart. I watched her adjust when she got out of control, or something didn't work. And even though she walked more than she struck out, as her Mom, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.
One day, before I know it, this miraculous little girl that gave us such a bad time coming into this world, is going to become a woman. She will step out and start to live a life of her own. And if she shows just the faintest shadow of the person she was last night, it's going to be a great one.
After the game, we had a board meeting. Tired, physically and emotionally, as the clock neared 10, Maddie came out of the back room where she'd been hanging out with other board kids and curled into my lap - just like a 3 year old. Still in her uniform, with eyeblack smeared across her cheeks, she laid her head on my shoulder. She smelled like leather and her forehead tasted salty under my kiss. I write that now in hopes of locking it away, I know those moments when all she wants is to be in Mom's arms are running out on me. I hope I never forget how beautiful she looked out there, smiling, proud and so full of confidence and how she still fit into my lap afterward.
My girl.
But I have to move from Coach to Mom to tell my story. Last night I saw my little girl, who will always be 3 years old somewhere in my head, stand on a pitcher's mound for the first time. She stood there and pitched 2 innings. They weren't spectacular, but it was her poise and control that actually moved me to tears (privately and briefly, to not embarrass myself or my kid). It was one of those moments when you step back and see your child grow up right in front of your eyes. I was awestruck by her strength and ability to block out the pressure, the noise, the last passed ball, the runners on the bases. She never fell apart. I watched her adjust when she got out of control, or something didn't work. And even though she walked more than she struck out, as her Mom, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.
One day, before I know it, this miraculous little girl that gave us such a bad time coming into this world, is going to become a woman. She will step out and start to live a life of her own. And if she shows just the faintest shadow of the person she was last night, it's going to be a great one.
After the game, we had a board meeting. Tired, physically and emotionally, as the clock neared 10, Maddie came out of the back room where she'd been hanging out with other board kids and curled into my lap - just like a 3 year old. Still in her uniform, with eyeblack smeared across her cheeks, she laid her head on my shoulder. She smelled like leather and her forehead tasted salty under my kiss. I write that now in hopes of locking it away, I know those moments when all she wants is to be in Mom's arms are running out on me. I hope I never forget how beautiful she looked out there, smiling, proud and so full of confidence and how she still fit into my lap afterward.
My girl.
