Twenty five years ago, I held a small seven pound bundle of boy in my arms, and I thought it was the most pure love I would ever know or feel. It was euphoric, and the waves of peace and love and joy just washed over me as that little tiny person, newly born, gazed soulfully and trustingly into my eyes. I couldn't imagine ever feeling that way again, but it was okay, because he was my son, and I could love him all I wanted.
Over the next six years, the hope for another chance at motherhood gradually faded as one miscarriage led to another. After four times, I had resigned myself to the idea that my son would be an only child. I grieved for all that he, [and I,] was missing out on. That sadness was magnified when one day he presented me with a little blue Play-doh person, which he informed me was his new sister, and he asked me to make her alive.
Shortly thereafter, I was unexpectedly pregnant again. I had no hopes, only fears, and a dread of the inevitable. The weeks passed, and I got sicker and sicker, losing over 20 pounds off my 5'9" 110 pound frame. I was a medical experiment, as I endured hyperemesis in the extreme, and then bed rest as the days turned into months, and she held on.
I didn't dare hope, even late into the pregnancy, that this would work out. I was afraid to put a nursery together or buy clothes, because I couldn't quite believe she would make it, and I would really have this dream come true. I was afraid to let go of my feelings and love this new baby, because I couldn't bear to lose her. Of course, eventually I had no choice, as I saw her little heart beating on the many ultrasounds, and then felt her move. Within weeks, she became so real to me I would already have died for her.
Still, I would look at my handsome little boy with his dark curly hair, and I couldn't quite imagine feeling the same way I felt about him for anyone else.
When my little girl made her early, and requisite fully dramatic appearance, it was a harbinger of the life to come. She was a medical emergency, as I was in hard labor by the time I got to the hospital [long story, I don't come out of it looking intelligent at all, so you are not going to hear about this part,] it was six weeks before the due date, and I had to have a C section because of the way my previous C section had been done.
She was in severe distress as my insides started falling apart around her, and the anesthetic didn't work as they made the initial incision. Long story short, I can actually speak to how it would feel if someone cut you open without anesthetic. Ya. Moving on.
The quiet operating room at the moment of her birth is something I will never forget. We all held our breath waiting to hear that cry that never came. It was a heartbreaking moment for me, to have come so far, only to be disappointed at this bitter end. The euphoria I had experienced the first time was replaced with desperate fear, a panic that is simply indescribable. I started to weep silently, and they told me they were going to knock me out so they could finish the operation. I argued, but they insisted, and I went to sleep distraught and miserable.
When I awoke a short time later, it was to the news that she was alive, she was in the NICU, and she was in a bad way. They wheeled my bed past the NICU on the way back to my room, and I got my first glance at my new little girl.
She was laying naked on a little table with a light above her, wires and tubes running off her in every direction. Suddenly, I felt that mother love welling up inside me, just as powerful and real and all encompassing as before. I was worrying about her before I had even seen her face, and there was no question that I loved her as fiercely as I had loved my firstborn.
I asked why she wasn't in an incubator wrapped in a blanket. They gently told me they had her on the warming table so they could get at her more quickly if she needed help, and I felt the icy cold fingers of fear squeezing the blood out of my heart again. I had time for one more quick glance at her still, fragile body before they swept me off to my room to rest and recuperate.
For all that long night, they wouldn't allow me out of bed to go and see her, but they were good to provide me with almost constant updates. I sat up on the side of the bed, and then got out of bed to stand when no one was looking, trying to regain my strength to make the walk down to see my baby for myself.
The next day, I walked down to see her, and my heart was in my throat when I looked at her. She was so tiny, her little ears still folded up against her head, paper thin, her tiny fingers smaller than the tines of a fork. It was amazing to me that someone so small could have such a grip on my emotions, but she grabbed hold and has been playing with my heart ever since.
My love for my two children wasn't exactly the same, either then or now - they are two different people, and their approach to life, as in most other things, has been different from the first moment. But I suddenly realized that the miracle of love is that it is truly boundless, unlimited, and a mother can love all her children with the same overwhelming emotion, even as she loves them all for their own unique selves.
Adam, the moody intellectual, is a laid back perfectionist. He usually thinks everything over in excruciating detail, looking at every possibility before making a decision to be sure he has done exactly what he needs to so the outcome is assured. He makes no move before it's time has come (and sometimes gone, but I digress.)
Erin, the spontaneous emotional performer, is the opposite. There is no decision that cannot be undone in her world. She will make 15 decisions in the time it takes to pour a glass of soda, only to make another change before she takes the first sip. I'm not sure she ever worries about the outcome, as long as she can have fun getting there.
Traveling through life with Erin is an adventure every single day, and she turned my peaceful, quiet existence upside down with the first beat of her heart. I have never been able to take anything for granted with her, and I suspect I never will. She is my wild child, the one I can never quite get a handle on, the one who still confuses and bewilders me, even after 18 years of close observation.
I am a completely different parent with Adam than I am with Erin. The strict structure and clear boundaries and rules that were so effective with Adam are useless with a free spirit like Erin, and she has renegotiated everything from the very first moment of life.
She played goalie on roller blades at age 3 to keep up with everyone else, and she lost her first tooth at her brother's rough housing hands. She has performed since the moment she could walk and talk, and she has been fighting to be in charge, not only of her, but of all of us, since before she was born.
My little girl is not the stuff of the fairy tale princess, sugar and spice and everything nice. She is made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, with a truck full of bhut jolokia pepper for good measure. She will be the match for anyone she comes up against in life, and yet, underneath it all, there is a sensitive, vulnerable soul who meets me in my heart in the most thoughtful ways.
She is a living contradiction, whimsical and capricious, constantly doing the unexpected thing. She is strong willed but warm hearted, quick to anger but quick to forgive. She has faced some very difficult knocks in life, and carries her wounds deep within, but she has never let that stop her from having a good time and enjoying the fun that life offers her.
Erin has taught me to let go a little, that spontaneity can be fun in small doses, and that life is richest when you have variety. She is beautiful and smart, and has provided me with a lot of entertainment as people focus on the obvious characteristic, forgetting about the other. She has a quick mind, and a quicker mouth, and is rarely at a loss for words, which often make me laugh out loud.
As Erin approaches this important life milestone, her high school graduation, I know in my heart she is ready for the life ahead. I have been blessed beyond my wildest imaginings to have her in my world, and my world is a better place for her being here.
A couple of months ago, she had to write a senior speech for an assignment. Her speech was unexpectedly mature and reflective, and she made some very interesting points. It was clear to me that she is on the road to growing up, and although she is only at the start of the journey, she is on the right path.
As she struggles to find her way in the larger world, I know that she will remember who she is and where she has come from. That will give her the foundation from which to soar as high as she wants to.
To my smart, witty, crazy, whimsical, beautiful, amazing daughter, wherever you go and whatever you do, you know that you are always a heartbeat away from me, no matter how far you travel away from here. You no longer need me to be the coach on the sidelines, giving you direction and instruction. From now on you will find me in the bleachers, shouting encouragement and cheering you on. I am available for advice and ideas any time you call, but I will leave the living of your life up to you.
From the moment I first laid eyes on you, my world has changed, expanded, and been turned upside down in ways I could never have imagined. You have enriched my heart even as you depleted my bank account, and you have added to my library of memories even as you frayed my edges. My life story is utterly changed because you came into the world. I look back, and it is almost like I opened the door into Oz the day you were born, but I don't want to go back. You live life in full color, and I cannot imagine it any other way.
My darling daughter, my Sweetie Pie, my teammate and buddy and friend, on this, the day you graduate from high school, I wish you enough failure to grow, but enough success to encourage you to keep trying.
I wish you enough sadness to make you compassionate, and enough joy to keep you smiling.
I wish you just enough fear to keep you safe, and just enough courage to go for whatever you want in life.
I want you to experience self-doubt and self-fulfillment, work and play, poverty and riches, and the wisdom to know what is real and what is false.
I wish you fun and happiness, and the knowledge of the difference.
I wish you long life, thunderstorms, walking along the beach, a lifetime of good books, and the right someone to share them with.
I wish you discernment in your friends, and the ability to know which ones to keep, and which ones to lose.
I wish you everything that life has to offer, for better and for worse, and that when you reach the end of your life journey far in the future, you will be able to look back on a life well lived with few regrets.
As you reach forward with both hands, know that I am always right behind you, an arm's length away, to help catch you as you fall, and to give you a shove when you need it. I give God the glory for knowing exactly what I needed in my life, and it was you.
Happy graduation, Erin Rose.
