Pee Stick Celebrations and College Graduations

Lots of stories of becoming a mother start with a pee-stick celebration. Mine started with a handful of drug store tests, a case of beer, multiple packs of Marlboro Lights and this mantra: “You have got to be kidding me.”

It was July 1993. I was 20. My 18 year-old boyfriend was at a keg party. There were no cell phones, so I couldn’t text him, but I couldn’t wait. So, I chased him.

He ran away.

But then I caught him and quickly decided to run in a different direction. To dreams of writing and living in Greenwich Village, tackling the big city with my baby. He didn’t chase me. He never chased me. He knew my dreams would give way to reality and patiently waited for my return.

So…a baby. I love, love, love babies. One of the happiest days of my life was when my sister announced her pregnancy. I was 9, and I couldn’t wait to have a little baby to hold and play with. My nephew was like a real live doll. But my own baby? Mmmmmm.

After the initial shock wore off, I fell hard and fast for the tiny mass of cells growing and multiplying in my abdomen. I would lie on my back for hours watching itty bitty limbs move inside me. “Watch!” I would tell her dad, as we gently poked back at miniature knees and elbows, feet and hands.

I was certain our baby was a boy. When it was finally time for an ultrasound, my boyfriend didn’t want to know the sex. He wanted to be surprised. What’s the big surprise, my girlfriend once mused; it’s gonna be a boy or girl. It’s not like the doctor is going to proclaim, “Congratulations! It’s puppies!” So I told the ultrasound tech I wanted to know what the sex was before he came in the room. It was the 90’s. It’s a girl.

A girl? Seriously? I had 5 brothers and 4 nephews, and I tearfully begged her to tell me she was sure. Show me! The technician laughed at my elation, “Did you really want a girl?” she asked. I was caught off guard as I didn’t realize how much I wanted a girl until that moment.

As the weeks passed, I fell more in love with the idea of motherhood. I was never sick or uncomfortable—the perks of being pregnant when you’re young and fit. I gained a mere 19 pounds and looked like the picture I carry around in my head of my ideal body about 5 minutes after I gave birth. 

Giving birth. All the waiting. All the anticipation. Childbirth classes. A planned c-section and boom, there she was. “Here’s your baby!” they said putting her tiny face next to mine before quickly whisking her away. This was before the days of kangaroo care and bonding with the baby right after birth.

Wait. Where are you taking her? “We have to bathe her and check her vitals. We’ll bring her back.” What seemed like days passed as they stapled my body back together, and I sobbed “I want my baby.” 

No one had warned me about the postpartum emptiness…the sense of loss I felt at my baby being on the outside instead of inside. When she was in my body, she was all mine. Once she was out I had to share her with the world. Before we had been inseparable…two souls but one body. Elizabeth Stone said, “Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” That’s it.

It’s been 21 years since my baby girl entered the world. She came with no instructions, but she taught me so much. She had no agenda, but she gave me a purpose. Before I had her, I wanted to change the world. I wanted to make a big impact. I wanted to do something great. 

Over the last 21 years, those dreams shifted. My perspective changed. I no longer seek accolades, accomplishments and applause because being a mom is more amazing than anything I could have imagined doing. It is the greatest thing I’ve ever done. And she has accomplished more than I’d ever dreamed possible.

In one week, this child will graduate from college. Her peers nominated her to speak at commencement. I honestly don’t know if I will make it. Thinking about it makes my heart feel as if it might explode with love and pride. She has grown up to be such an amazing person. Kind, loving, compassionate, driven, bright, inspiring…a better person than I’d ever hoped or dreamed or imagined she would be. One of the most wonderful people I know. She is my best friend. My most trusted confidante and adviser. She makes me want to be a better person. She reminds me to cherish each fleeting moment with the other loves of my life because the days may be long but the years are short as the saying goes.

In one week, my beebee will graduate from college. I’m wrapping my head around that.

I wrote part of this some time ago for another site, but in working through my feelings about Chloe graduating, I felt like revisiting it. Thanks for indulging me. Also, some people still wonder and are too polite to ask: Brad was and still is my boyfriend. Yes, our kids are 21, 15, and 9. No, we’ve never been much good at planning.

Please don’t let me screw them up.

I overthink nearly every aspect of my life–mostly my mothering. It’s overwhelming and scary to have the ability to screw up three wonderful people God has placed in my really incapable hands. People have commented favorably on mine and Chloe’s relationship. And that both humbles and amazes me. I can’t take credit for our relationship; it is “but for the grace of God.” I mean, my whole life is, but Chloe who transitioned from my treasured baby to my very best friend; well, she is just a brilliant shining example of God’s grace in my life.

So brilliant that if I could hang up my mothering hat when she went to college, Brad Bell and I could exchange high fives and begin redecorating our empty nest. Alas, there are these other two children whose lives I can still potentially ruin.

I will readily admit, that I think I’m a better girl mom. I like to shop and do makeup and girly stuff. I don’t dislike sports, but I will pick Cosmo over Sports Illustrated any day, and unless the Buckeyes are playing, I’m probably reading rather than watching the game. But, I love my son very much. So much so that in this awkward tween phase where he doesn’t cuddle as much or share as many secrets or kiss me on the face anymore, sometimes I sneak into his room a few minutes before he has to get up just so I can snuggle with him and kiss his head. I guess that’s kind of a creepy stalker move, but I do it anyway. 

It’s just that we don’t enjoy a lot of the same things. I treasure our shared interests and am always trying to cultivate more. I love watching him play every sport, but if he had to choose someone to hang with, it would be Daddy. And that’s okay. Brad is a really good dad, and in many ways, he gets to be the kind of dad to P that he always wanted. Plus, sometimes they are each other’s only refuge in this house full of hormones and hairspray.

Then there’s Lily. If I’m gonna screw up any of them, it will be her. She is so much like me it is simultaneously amazing and infuriating. I cannot point out one of her flaws without reprimanding myself in the same breath. I mean, I do, but to be fair and honest, I have to put myself in check at the same time because she learned each bad behavior somewhere, and Brad rarely screams and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him throw a tantrum.

Still, there she is, the baby that I didn’t want (we planned for two kids: one boy and one girl) and never expected–the child who pushes me to the edge of sanity on a daily basis. She has taught me more about myself in six short years than I learned in nearly 40 on my own.

So as I ponder 2012’s blessings and trials, I think about what each of these children taught me. Chloe taught me unconditional love. You know, the kind of love you don’t even realize you are capable of feeling until your whole heart has been pulled from your body and is curled up on your chest. She inspires me not only to be a better mother, but also to be a better person, as I pray to live up to the image she has of me. P taught me joy, and he delights me on a daily basis with his sweet spirit and caring compassionate heart. I pray we raise him into a great man, husband, and father. Lily has taught me to let go of my plans and give in to God’s will. She is full of fire and passion, and I pray I can guide her to use her powers for good rather than evil.

I pray every day to be the mom each of them needs. I pray that God helps me guide them in the direction He has planned for their lives. I pray that I don’t saddle them with any of my own insecurities and flaws and shortcomings. I pray that I don’t screw them up.