She started high school last week—left this house in a ball of nerves and excitement and fear and delight, curious about this new, independent path she was about to walk, sans her mother’s hand to squeeze during the scary parts.

I offered to make her an omelet. She wasn’t hungry. I plotted to drive her two blocks to the bus stop. Her father told her to walk, and he parked a block away, in case her ride didn’t show up. She did let me take a picture of her dressed in her first-day-of school outfit, a custom we’ve practiced every year since her first day of school at age two. For this small piece of ritual, I am grateful. I stared at her picture through tear-filled eyes for at least an hour.

It’s so cliché, that whole “where did the time go—it feels like she was born just yesterday” thing. Still, the feeling is visceral. True. And really, it’s starting to sink in that the sweet little ball of chocolate I carried in my belly and pushed through my loins and fell totally, helplessly, eternally in love with all those years ago is a baby no more.

My firstborn child, my Mari, is 14…

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Editor’s Note: Throughout August, top bloggers are using their voices to help protect children from vaccine-preventable diseases as part of “Blogust,” a month-long digital dialogue organized by the United Nations Foundation’s Shot@Life campaign. Every time you leave a comment on any of these blog posts, Walgreens will donate a vaccine (up to 50,000 vaccines) to help give children around the world a shot at a healthy life. Comments only count when they are left on the direct Blogust post.