They Say It's Your Birthday

The Child woke up at 6am. Color her excited.

At this moment, 13 years ago, I was in the home stretch, birthing-wise. It had been a particularly uneventful birth. It actually wasn't that bad. Don't get me wrong; I'm not a fan of pain. But the contractions weren't that horrible, probably because I had expected them to be so much worse. And the thing I didn't realize about contractions is that when you're not actually having one, you feel just fine.

We'd had a good time. Our labor nurse, Ina, told us that she'd never laughed so much during a delivery in her entire career. The Spouse was doing Monty Python bits ("And this is the machine that goes, 'ping'"), my best friend Lorene was there in doula mode, we were cracking jokes, listening to music and ocassionally I'd stop, writhe with pain, and then we'd get back to cracking more jokes. Plus, I got a dose of some nice little narcotic about halfway through, to take the edge off. After it had run its course, they put me in a jacuzzi tub. What's not to like about that?

The hard part was the actual pushing. Not the most fun I'd ever had. But that only lasted about an hour and then, accompanied by the Grateful Dead playing in the background, Miss Thing made her entrance. And she was beautiful.

She was 10 days post dates. That should have been a sign. She likes to do things at her own pace, in her own way. And she wasn't coming out until she was damn good and ready. They cleaned her up and put her in my arms. She wasn't crying. She had one teeny tiny hand on her face, a contemplative gesture, and looked right into my eyes with an expression that said, "Oh. So you're my mom, huh?" She didn't seem impressed. And I knew right there, in that moment, come what may, she was her own person and she would have her own mind about things.

Boy, was I right.

It is a very big deal to her that she is 13. It is a very big deal to me. I've been paying pretty close attention for 13 years but I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea that it's actually been that long, that she's a teenager for heaven's sake and yeah, legally, we only have to take care of her for 5 more years. I've been here all this time and I still don't get how that tiny baby with the chubby chubby cheeks and a dearth of hair turned into this tall, lean, beautiful creature capable of cogent thought (sometimes), full of promise and well on her way to adulthood.

Of course, the thing about being a mother is that the kids may grow up, but you are a mom for life. I once heard my 80 or 90 something grandmother remind my mother to wipe her feet when she came in from the garden. Hello? By that time Dame Judi was a grandmother in her own right. I heard Grandma say that, looked at Mum and said, "You're never not a mom, are you?"

She smiled and said, "Nope".

I didn't have a kid at the time but it prepared me. They go into your heart, those little devils, and even when sometimes you want to ship them off to boarding school, you love them like no one else on the planet. And usually, it takes them becoming a parent themselves to realize the depth of that love. Which is as it should be.

So here we are, officially in Teendom.

Suddenly, I need a drink.