IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY. . .

[queenoscots]

It was twenty years ago today that my lovely daughter was born, also marking my birth as a mother.  I don't know exactly what I was before that, but I've been a mother forever after.

Friends and relations cautioned me against hoping time would pass quickly.  Don't go wishing to speed the day she'll sleep through the night, eat solid food, talk, walk, go to school, stay over at a friend's house, they said.  The weeks might seem to crawl by, but one day you'll look back and realize how they flew-- gone now,  never to come back.

For the most part I haven't wished the days away. . .although I'll admit to an enthusiastic happy dance when there were no more night feedings.  Lord knows I like my sleep.  But mostly I've clung to each leg of this wondrous journey, hoping at times for the magic to hold these precious moments in my hands for just awhile before they fade into memory.

I've also longed for the occasional do over.  Goodness, how I've screwed up from time to time!  Of all the relationships in my life, it's parenting that I've tried hardest to "get right".  As a daughter, a wife, a sister, a friend, a teacher, an aunt, a mentor. . .well, honesty compels me to admit times when I chose the short cut, times when I shrugged my shoulders and said, "That'll just have to do."  Motherhood alone has inspired my most steadfast behavior, both in thought and deed.  Maybe the sincerity with which I've attempted being a good mom make my blunders seem more intense.  Some days the harder I try to do the right thing, the deeper I lapse into buffoonery.

It started twenty years ago with a little baby whose arrival was neither planned nor a complete surprise, the conclusion of a pregnancy so blessedly uneventful I was blissfully unaware of my condition until I was more than four months along (long story).  At three days of age, she lay on the hospital bed waiting for completely inexperienced parents to dress her for the trip home.  Home, in this case, was a little red ranch-style which previously housed only the (ample) trappings of two self-centered adults and three spoiled cats. 

Her first act as queen of the world was to require a nursery.  How it hurt to pack up 21 boxes of books for indefinite storage in the garage!  But such is parenting--the space once occupied by novels and record albums was filled with pink frilly things and bright, plastic toys.  I cut out paper dolls, sewed mermaid costumes, and sobbed through each reading of Robert Munsch's Love You Forever.  Daddy gave piggy back rides and sat patiently while little hands adorned his beard with bows and barrettes.  Disney movies took up residence on the video shelf, the bathroom cabinet burst with pink medicines and colorful bandaids, bad language was curbed, and we all made attempts to eat our veggies and attend Sunday School regularly so as to set a good example.  Money previously earmarked for electronics or date nights now paid for ballet lessons or T-ball practices.

And the whole experience was so deeply satisfying we repeated it three years later, this time with a wonderful son.

It seems unfair somehow that parenthood is such a learn-as-you-go proposition.  Doesn't a helpless little baby deserve someone already possessing practical experience at kissing boo-boos,  matching Garanimals, and listening to giggly voices sing The Song That Never Ends?  And doesn't an angsy teen require someone who's versed in dispensing meaningful advice and making hard decisions?  Ah, but what we deserve and what we get are two different things.  Somehow we survive, and even thrive.  Each day I realize I haven't completely ruined this priceless human being whose life is in my hands --well, it's a good day!

The surest way to become an adult is to bring a child into the world.  And the hardest part of parenting--I've found--is learning how to let go.  Nothing that comes before prepares a mom for launching her son or daughter out into the world.  By the time I was twenty, my mom had already lived through it twice.  Maybe that's why she was better able to hide her apprehension!

Despite misteps and false starts, I wouldn't trade the last twenty years for anything.  The joy so outweighs the sadness that I suspect Fate knew just what she was doing by presenting me with a precious baby girl. 

Happy 20th, my brown eyed girl!  And many, many more!

1987

2007

 

 

[Kittykrazy]

Aug. 8, 2007 at 1:46 PM Beautiful!!!