Letting go

Today was my oldest daughter's 9th birthday. Tomorrow night she's going to her first concert, the Cheetah Girls (with parental supervision, of course). This morning she walked to school unescorted for the first time. I watched her the entire way, my heart in my throat. I could watch her because the school is all of two yards away. I was still a tad nervous.

My husband insists I'm being ridiculous, but it made me nervous to let her walk out that door without me.

I think when we send our books out into the world, it's the same feeling. These are our babies who we've nurtured and wept over and now they're out there on their own, waiting for someone to either love them or hate them.

Have I mentioned I'm not real good at letting go?

Spitfire makes its print debut today. I love that book. LOVE that book. It's gotten great reviews and a lot of positive feedback, but now it's going into stores. Will it languish on the shelves, unloved and lonely while all it's little shelf mates go to good homes? Will someone buy it and hate it so much they throw it against a wall? Or will it go to a good home on someone's keeper shelf?

I guess once you're a mother, be it books or children, you can never stop worrying, you can only trust that you've done the best you can and hope for as little damage as possible.

And I thought labor was tough 9 years ago. . .