heart issues

with my baby Kylee, 2003

If the quote above is true, it would explain why I react the way I do to Kylee's competitions. They are not at all about me, yet starting even days prior, my stomach ties itself into knots. The day of a competition, my heart pounds rapidly within my chest. And while she competes, I can barely breathe. There my little girl stands with her head held high, shoulders back. The judges, looking so serious and stern with their crisp navy suits and straight faces, raise their hand to signal her to start. In response, she salutes them and begins. I have each routine memorized and know the places where she is solid and where she struggles. I hope with all my heart that she will "hit" each skill as I know she can, but also know that she might stumble... and the judges are watching intently, taking notes on every single knee bend and pointed toe. The pressure is almost too much to bear as I watch my baby girl perform to the best of her ability under such scrutiny. As she finishes each event, I finally breathe again and plaster a smile on my face so that she knows I'm proud of her, regardless of how she performed. We then wait anxiously for the scores to be posted. Sometimes we understand them, sometimes we don't. Of course, we want her to do well, and it's great when she does... but, truly, eternally, we know the scores hold no value. They are simply a subjective reflection of the judge's opinion of her gymnastic performance at that moment. They may or may not get her a trophy, but in the end, we love her just as passionately regardless... maybe even more so when she struggles because our hearts hurt for her. As each meet ends, there is such relief. Though I do nothing but sit and cheer, I feel as though I have run a marathon, with adrenaline pumping through my veins. I love the moment when I get to hug my girl and reunite my heart with my body. Yes, that is my favorite moment of the entire competition.

Here's a snippet of Kylee's latest competition.
Here goes my heart...