This layout made me cry when I created it. Even now, it makes my throat clench. This was a defining moment in my daughter's life. I captured the story. I'm so glad I did.
And so you don't have to squint, here's the journaling:
Yesterday, you lost a tooth. You were bubbling with excitement about the tooth fairy and giddy with the anticipation of getting another dollar to add to your spending money.
You went to bed just like you always have, and I tucked you in just like I always do. It wasn't until I was getting ready to go to bed an hour later that you came to me and asked if we could talk.
"Mom" you said with giant tears running down your face,"Jackie told me there isn't a tooth fairy. She saw her mom putting money under her pillow."
In that moment, I had to make a decision. Do I tell you the truth? Do I continue to perpetuate a dream? But you hadn't asked me if there was a tooth fairy, you had just told me what your friend said. "Honey," I said, "Sometimes we have to believe in the spirit of something. If you believe it's true, it's true in your heart."
Then you looked at me. I saw your struggle to believe.
"Mom, I'm scared," you said.
"Scared of what?" I asked, for I was truly confused.
With a sob you told me, "I'm scared of growing up."
Now I felt tears fall. Oh baby, I'm scared to have you grow up. I'm sure this isn't the first time you've been told that there is no Tooth Fairy, no Santa Claus. You are just weeks shy of being ten years old and until yesterday, you always believe in the face of all other evidence to the contrary. Somehow, on this day, you had the maturity to realize that maybe the world isn't as innocent as you always believed. You realized that growing up means letting go of your childhood dreams and wishes.
I hugged you as you sat on my lap for what would most likely be the last time. I told you I loved you, and you told me that even though growing up is sometimes not fun, it means getting to do some fun stuff. And then you told me something that showed me just how very mature you are.
"Mom," you said. "I waited to tell you until you were going to bed so Chesney wouldn't know."
I thanked you on behalf of your little sister, and gave you a hug and sent you to bed. Then I went to my own bed, told your dad, rolled over and let my own tears fall. It's time for me to let go of my little girl, and I think it's OK if we both cry a little over that. I had to mourn the loss of your innocence and faith. We'll get through this next stage together, and I expect we'll shed a few more tears. But at least we'll be together. March 2006.
