I Put My Daughter Down And Never Picked Her Back Up

Her little arms reached up to me and I scooped her up without hesitation, a routine we’d done a thousand times.

She fit perfectly on my hip, my arm around her waist and her head rested gently on my shoulder.

I picked her up when she was hurt.

I picked her up when she was excited.

I picked her up when she was tired.

I Picked Her Up When She Was Too Little To See What I Could See.

Cuddling Baby

And then one day I put her down and never picked her back up.

One day, without me realizing it, she got too big.

Too big to scoop up.

Too big to rest on my hip.

One day I put her down and never picked her back up.

One day, without me realizing it, she got strong.

Strong enough to carry on when she was tired. Strong enough to comfort her own pain.

One day I put her down and never picked her back up.

One Day, Without Me Realizing It, She Could See Without My Help.

Teenage girl walking into school ground.

She could see above the crowd.

She could see what lay ahead.

One day I put her down and never picked her back up.

The Day I Set Her Down I Didn’t Know It Would Be The Last.

Hold Child In Arms

It was a routine we’d done a thousand times.

And she still needs me to help guide her through life.

She still needs to rest her head on my shoulder.

She still wants me when she is hurt.

She still reaches for me when she is scared.

She’ll Never Rest On The Crook Of My Hip Or Fall Asleep With Her Little Legs Dangling From My Side.

Mom Holding Child

She’ll never need me to help her see above the crowd.

She’ll never be small enough for my arms to bear the weight.

She’ll never reach her arms to me so I will pick her up.

One day I put my daughter down and never picked her back up.

This post was written by Candice Curry. For more of her work, follow her on Facebook and Instagram.

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