Twenty Years

Twenty years ago tonight I was on the phone with one of my best friends from high school.  I was just 18 and over 2 weeks past due with my first baby.  I was upset that I hadn’t gone into labor yet and that my doctor was going to induce me the day after Labor Day.  I wanted so badly to have an intervention free labor and delivery and induction would ruin my perfect plans.  My friend reminded me that the next day was indeed Labor Day, so it was only natural that I would go into labor on that day.  We laughed, hung up the phone and I went to sleep.  At 4:45 AM I woke with my first contraction.  I hadn’t even registered to vote yet!  I didn’t know how to have a BABY!  I didn’t know how to be a parent!  I didn’t know how to breastfeed, burp an infant, or make baby food!  I didn’t even know the gender of my unborn child and yet there I was preparing to give birth, to an actual child that I would be responsible for.  I labored at home for four hours and four hours and three minutes later I was holding my sweet daughter in my arms.  Allyssa Breanne was born on Monday, September 7^th, 1992 at 12:48 PM.  Tomorrow / or today depending on when you are reading this blog, my sweet daughter will be twenty years old.  

Pregnant at 17, statistically I should have dropped out of high school, began receiving welfare benefits and gotten pregnant again within 2 years of my child’s birth.  Luckily for both of us, I did none of those things.  I finished high school and a little bit of college.  I did marry the person responsible for the other half of Allyssa’s DNA – but that didn’t last.  I worked hard and stayed broke but I was happy to be broke and independent.  Through birth control and then lesbianism, I even managed to wait 17 more years to get pregnant again.  Statistically, I would have been a mediocre parent at best, but Allyssa had other plans for me.  She was a kind and gentle baby.  She slept well, ate well and played well.  She was calm and relaxed.  I followed her lead and she made me a better parent.  She was a delightful toddler and a fun and energetic child.  She made me love the life I was living regardless of how alone or broke I was.  On some of my very worst days, Allyssa would do or say something to remind me that all I needed to get through that particular moment was that sweet child.  And I got through it… one day, one week, one month, and one year at a time. 

Time went on and my sweet girl never changed.  Fun, relaxed, kind and gentle.  Anyone who has known Allyssa her entire life can attest this is who she has been since the second her little personality developed!  I changed though, I changed a lot.  I went from a scared pregnant teenager to a relatively decent parent.  I gained confidence, independence and determination.  Allyssa raised me right. 

Most parents say they love their children more than life and I am no different.  We all see our precious babies as they were the moment we laid eyes on them and that kind of love never goes away.  But this child, this child gave me new life, taught me more than I could ever write in one blog and truly saved me.  This child saved me from myself.     

Dear Allyssa,
On your first day as a twenty something, I wish for you to look in the mirror for just a few minutes and see what I see.  I hope you see a bright and shining example of what a truly good person should be.  I hope you see an absolutely beautiful young woman on the inside and out, who on many occasions has made a difference in the lives of those around her.  I hope you see the incredible teacher you will become and the wonderful teacher you already are with the children whose lives you touch every single day.  I hope you see a remarkable sister who is a perfect example of the kind of person we hope Max grows into.  I hope you see a genuine friend who means the world to the people closest to her heart and most importantly, I hope you see my little hero, the little girl who made me a better Mom and a better person.  I love you more than I could ever express… All the way to the moon and back!  

Love, 

Mom