Butterflies

Evelyn is gearing up for her first ever gymnastics competition.
It will take place on March 17, the eighth anniversary of her referral.
She is a nervous wreck about it.
As we drove home last night along the dark highway, just she and I, she talked in a tiny tremulous voice about her fears. She is worried about how many people will be watching her, if she will do well, will her coaches be close enough, can they at least give her high fives or shout out the next move if she gets stuck. She told me that she even asked her friends and they aren't all that nervous so why is she?
I tried to be reassuring. I put a brave face on and I said all of the things I think a Mama is supposed to say at a time like this: It is okay to be afraid and nervous, just do your best and have fun, the first one is the hardest because it is all unknown and unfamiliar, you are ready, you have practiced, your coaches will be there, you won't be alone...
But I keep thinking about this tiny 37 pound girl walking out onto that floor, all alone in a twinkly blue leo to whip that muscly frame about while these unknown adults judge her and... well, to be honest it makes me a bit queazy. This tiny, white hot star of a girl, all alone out there in the middle of a huge gym, tumbling and flipping and being afraid and nervous. I really just want to pull her onto my lap and tell her not to worry, we won't go, we're good.
Then I think about her as a gymnast, how she loves it, how her natural grace helps her BE a gymnast and I know this is something she has to face, we have to face. She can do it and she will be great. Medal or no, trophy or no. She will be a champion because she went out there and did her thing even though she was afraid.