Wow.
Yes, it was 650AM when I took this photo this morning, so she was just about 47 minutes shy of being a teenager...and she hadn't quite rubbed all of the sleep from her eyes, there is a soccer ball in the background there and it was freezing outside. But she played along for me...and I started snapping a few pics.
And it hit me.
She is a teenager.
Whoa.
Forget the fact that I can still remember feeling totally in awe and CLUELESS 13 years ago when they placed her in my arms.
I was terrified. What the heck did I know about taking care of a babe? I mean, I knew the values I wanted to teach her...the limits we would set, the places we wanted her to see. But as far as physically caring for a newborn?
I. was. lost.
I hit the nurse call button because she was hiccuping...and she was kind and explained that would happen every now and then, lol. We chuckled and I took a deep breath and told myself I could do it, this mama thing.
And then she had her first cold at 6 months old, and we raced her to the ER at 1 AM because I panicked. If you've never waltzed into an ER and announced
'MY BABY ISN'T BREATHING RIGHT'...trust me, you WILL get attention. So they looked her over, diagnosed her with a cold and we chuckled together...the ER staff and Mike + I.
She gave us a run for our money at bedtime starting around 2.5 years old.
We'd put her down, she'd lay there for literally 5 seconds and then we'd hear her little feet thumping across the floor to come back out and smile at us.
Which is cute, until you JUST need her to SLEEP.
(
note: if your pediatrician casually mentions: 'how is bedtime going?' at your next appointment, CONSIDER IT A WARNING...how the heck did he KNOW it was coming?!)
We talked it over at her next appointment, he gave me the perfect advice and we chuckled.
She begged to go to preschool before I was ready to send her.
Then she begged to go 4 days a week instead of 2.
Hard to say no to that when plenty of mamas were leaving the drop-off zone in tears because their babe was screaming about NOT wanting to go.
Then it was kindergarten.
She thrived there as well.
Man, did she thrive.
She walked in and never looked back...not once.
Me?
I walked away and made it to my car before the tears fell.
Then came soccer camp...5 nights away in a college dorm with her friends.
I made it 10 minutes away from campus before I fell apart.
(
Mike was proud of me for making it that far)
And middle school orientation.
Once again, she handled all of it like a champ.
Never ONCE feeling nervous or afraid.
She has the confidence I had hoped for...something that her mama hasn't ever quite managed.
She is the girl who hurts for her friends, and never lets them cry alone. (
that one is all me)Her heart is wide open...which sets her up for disappointment in people here and there. (
again...me)
She has a passion for soccer that I wouldn't have ever thought possible (
that one's all Mike)
She has my hair/freckles/fair skin.
She has Mike's kewpie doll lips/chin/nose.
She is all of the best parts of both of us...with a few added touches.
You see, her entire life has been a series of growth. Baby steps toward developing into this beautiful young woman who has stolen our hearts with her smile. She isn't perfect...lord knows, we have our moments where I can't see straight from frustration.
But she is learning.
Man, is she learning.
To respect herself above all else...because without that, the rest falls apart.
How to be kind. To love. To be a good friend. To wear just the right amount of lip gloss. To sneak a book under the covers because she's caught up in a part she can't put down. To be a straight A honors student. To play the best defensive game she can in 90 minutes. To never wear white shoes because she just can't keep them clean. To handle a solo at a choir concert in front of hundreds of people. To keep her emotions in check until she can talk it out with me. To be grateful that she is so unbelievably close to her Grandma.
All of these steps/milestones are normal, I get that.
But when you add them all up and type them out...it's hard for me to grasp.
13.
My girl is a teenager.
And I am more in awe of her today than when they first placed her tiny self in my arms.