Oh wow….it’s time

February 6, 2005 – two days before she was born – we were on our way to the hospital and stopped at Starbucks because the coffee in the hospital sucked. I remember thinking to myself “holy crap, this is really happening” and we drove away from the Starbucks for the last time as a family of two. We checked into the hospital and they got me all hooked up to this machine and that machine and we watched the super bowl…don’t ask who was playing because I really can’t remember. After the game we settled in for a long night of being woken up, poked, measured, and prodded….let me rephrase that….I was woken up and Dude was fast asleep on his daddy bed.

The next day no progress had been made for her to come say “hello world!” – despite my doing everything the doctors, nurses, mother-in-law, friends, everyone said I should do. But to no avail – she wanted to stay safe and sound, warm and snug inside her comfy womb. And then all of a sudden I am being woken up by the nurse telling me the doctor is on the phone and he needs to speak with me. My heart is beating so fast…..oh, and Dude, yeah, he was asleep. The doctor tells me they need to do an emergency c-section because her heart rate was going way down. My heart leaps into my throat and I think what has this past nine months been for if something happens to her?! I didn’t care what would happen to me, just please save her…give her a chance to make the world a better place. As I hung up the phone with the doctor, the nurses flipped on the lights and flurried around. Dude woke up startled by all the commotion “what’s happening? Is she here? Is it time?” – focus Dude, I say! The nurse takes him to get all dressed up and ready to go in the OR where we will get to meet her for the very first time.

“Oh look…there’s a hand!” I hear the doctor say….she outstretched her hand as the scalpel cut into the sac as if she we were reaching for the stars! I hear Dude’s sharp intake of breath as the doctor pulls her out of her warm safe place and she doesn’t cry. She looks around the room at all the people there to greet her, at the lights shining down on her, at her father who’s voice she knew but she hadn’t seen his face….and then finally they brought her up to meet me face to face. “Hi, baby, I’m your mom. You look like an alien!” – yeah I wasn’t one of those gushing new mothers until a couple days later – sorry, friends.

The next day after everyone has left our hospital room, I am left alone for the first time with this little alien and I am filled with terror because I wasn’t sure I would know what to do if she cried or if she needed me. The truth is – I needed her more than I ever could have imagined. I laid her on the bed between my legs and unwrapped her swaddling to inspect every inch of her, smell her little feet, feel her little chicken legs, count her fingers and toes – yep, everything was there and she was perfect. She brought hope, love, and awe that wasn’t there before.

And now today – she’s 17. I still want to keep her safe, warm, and secure in my womb – but this cannot be. Today we submitted the first of many college applications that will take her far from her warm, safe, world where she will begin her life and do who knows what! I look at her now and I see this beautiful young woman whose life is so full of promise and hope. She is goodness, she is kindness, she is everything that I ever dreamed she would be. I have done my job and I have done it well because she has grown into a person that I am always in awe of. She finds strength she didn’t know she has, she finds love for everything, she gives love to all those that touch her soul. She will go far because she has to….quitting is not in her vocabulary. I love you, Cecilia, and I am more proud of you today than I was yesterday…..because every day you grow more and more into who you will be tomorrow.

Don’t get me wrong – sometimes I still look at her and see that alien (all teenagers are aliens, after all!)