Thirteen

My daughter turns 13 tomorrow. I will officially be the mother of a teenager. And I sit here wondering how we got here so fast. The truth is, I think that every year. How is it that a year can go by so fast? What they say is true; ‘blink and you miss it’. I turned 50 a few months ago and I can honestly say that I’m having a harder time with her turning 13. I’m not sure why, I’m just very much into my feelings lately. And that could be because of many things but her birthday has definitely been one of the reasons for it.

Every year as her birthday approaches, I relive her birthing story. Actually, I relive all of what I went through, not only on the day she was born, but all of the years my husband and I tried to conceive her. We had difficulties getting pregnant. It took us 8 years to have our daughter. And in that time, we went through testing, I was on medication more than once, and we suffered two miscarriages. All of that took a toll on me mentally and emotionally. It affected my husband as well and put a strain on our marriage. When I took my first pregnancy test with my daughter, I refused to believe it was true. I refused to get excited about it. I had already been through too much and I didn’t want to get disappointed again. But thankfully, she held on from the moment she was conceived, but only for 7 months.

My daughter was born over 2 months early. That day was both the happiest and scariest of my life. I remember it like it just happened yesterday. Yet, I have no sense of time for that day. I know I called my sister in the morning, before 9am, and it seemed like she got to the hospital right after me, which is impossible, because my brother-in-law left work in Staten Island, drove to Jersey to get my sister, and then drove to Brooklyn to the hospital. So, I know it was hours but, in my head, she was magically there in an instant. She helped get me through those hours. I can still hear her voice as they wheeled me into the delivery room for an emergency c-section. She said, ‘don’t worry, Lee, everything is going to be ok’. I found out after that when they closed the doors on her she broke down and cried. She comforted me and gave me confidence even when her own was shaky, I’m sure.

For the first few years after my daughter was born, I feel like I learned something new about that day, something my husband didn’t want to tell me at the time for many reasons. After everything I found out that I almost died because I had lost so much blood. When the nurse wheeled my daughter out to take her to the NICU she quickly told my husband we had a girl and that the doctor was still working on me and trying to stop the bleeding. My husband went from thrilled to scared in less than 3 seconds. I found out I had to have a blood transfusion because I had lost so much. I found out through a medical bill that they actually had to resuscitate my daughter. That one hit me in the gut. I remember complaining about the amount of the bill until I saw what it was for; needless to say, I would’ve paid any amount for that.

I’m sure as the years go by and we retell this story I’ll learn new things, things my husband thought he told me. Things I hear from my sister or my best friend who were both there from the morning until they saw me wake up from being under, late that night. Everyone has their own story that day. But the best thing I ever heard about that day was this: the doctor who delivered my daughter wasn’t my doctor but she worked in the same office so she didn’t know my story. When everything was done and I was ok she came out of the delivery room and asked my husband and sister if I had trouble conceiving to which they both said ‘YES!’. The doctor told them she saw why when she performed my c-section. Apparently, my ovaries are behind my uterus so there’s no easy access to my eggs. On top of that she said, ‘your wife has so much scar tissue I don’t even know how she ever got pregnant at all’. When I heard that I knew that my daughter was an absolute miracle and she was meant to be my child.

She has a decal over her bed that says, ‘Such a big miracle in such a little girl’. There has never been a truer statement. And I have been immensely blessed for these 13 years. I try not to take that for granted but I’m sure that I have. Life gets crazy and we forget the big picture because we’re so bogged down by all of the little things. I really just can’t believe that we’re here at 13 already. Wasn’t she just born? Wasn’t she just starting kindergarten? Didn’t she just graduate elementary school? Now she’s going into the 8th grade which means high school is only another year away and I just want to scream ‘SLOW DOWN!!’.

Tonight, at dinner my daughter actually said, ‘I don’t want to grow up. I want to go back to playing with my Little People and wearing a cape around the house and not go to school’. And that shocked me a little because for the past few years she couldn’t wait to grow up, to be older, and I would always tell her not to rush it, to enjoy being a kid because it goes by so fast. And I think now, just by adding the word ‘teen’ to her age she’s starting to see what I’m talking about. I feel like we’re all walking a fine line with this age. We know we can’t go backwards but at the same time none of us wants to go over that line too far, if that makes sense. I think this next year is going to bring on some changes that I’m not sure I’m ready for, and my husband definitely isn’t ready. Right now, she still believes in Santa, at least we think she does, but I can see her questioning things in certain ways. Last year she asked a bunch of questions but I also see it in how she reacts to things that we say. On the one hand, I’m ok if she doesn’t believe anymore. It would definitely make things easier for me. But, if you ask my husband, he’s not ready. He thinks her not believing is the loss of her innocence. I understand what he means but I wouldn’t go that far about it.

Today I helped her shave her legs for the first time because she said she couldn’t stand seeing the hair anymore. My daughter is a blonde-haired girl and the hair on her legs was so light that you could barely see anything. But I let her do it because it’s her body and I want her to be comfortable. I was sure to tell her though that once you start you can’t stop and it’s not always fun. She’s been into make-up for a couple of years but it’s really nothing more than lip gloss right now and she says that’s all she wants but I know that might change soon. She’s found her style with the way she wants to dress and last year she got rid of anything with a unicorn on it or anything else she deemed ‘babyish’. Now it’s all about oversized hoodies and wearing her dad’s old t-shirts to bed with a pair of shorts. As long as it’s appropriate, she can do whatever she wants. The other day we were at my sister’s house and my daughter sat on the edge of the couch, had her back straight and put one leg crossed over the other. She looked like a grown-ass woman and I think my eyes teared up. Let’s forget the fact that she’s my height now and will be taller than me sooner than I would like to admit.

She’s becoming a young woman and a part of me is so not ready for that. It happened too fast. She wants to watch more adult shows and movies. As we were watching a show the other night, they made a sexual joke that I didn’t think she understood until my husband and I heard her laugh. And I thought, ‘oh, shit, we’re here already’. Now, I told her about sex over a year and a half ago when she started to get her period, but I didn’t think she would know enough to get the jokes that should go over her head. That I wasn’t prepared for.

I also see this as a beautiful time. She’s more mature now and we can have conversations about things without me hiding from her. At this stage of my life, and all that I’m going through, it’s nice that I can talk to her in a real way and explain things to her so she understands. But I know that the questions and the conversations are going to get harder as we enter this next stage of her life. I’m not sure that I am ready, but I will be whenever it happens. I have found that as she has grown, so have I.

She’s turning 13 tomorrow but I still look at her and see my little girl. I see the girl who sang to the Cinderella song as it played on her Little People Princess castle. I see the little girl learning something new and being so amazed and proud of herself for doing it. I see the little girl who cried when she got on the bus on the first day of kindergarten but told herself she could do it and she did. I see who she was every year of her life. I know every part of her. I know when she’s sad, I know when she’s sick, I know what makes her happy and I know all of her moods. She is the best part of me.

Yes, she’s going to be 13. But she still holds onto her stuffed monkey every night when she goes to bed; her monkey that she’s had since she was 1, the one she kept after we cut the pacifier part off. She swears that monkey is going to college with her. She’s turning 13 but she still likes me to stroke her hair or her arm to help her relax. She still loves to cuddle with me or her Dad. She’ll still sit down at the table and play Barbies with her Dad, something he jumps at the chance to do because it doesn’t happen as often anymore. She still calls me Mama sometimes, she still asks for hugs any chance she gets, she still wants her Daddy to tuck her in at night. She still wants to be silly and do things with each of us that we used to do and we’re going to hang onto that for as long as we can, because one day it will be gone. Yes, she’s becoming a teenager tomorrow, but she will always and forever be my little girl.