Twenty-two years ago today, I became a mom for the first time. Our oldest daughter arrived via non-emergency c-section, after about 20 hours of fairly non-productive labor. I wanted to keep going, but I started retaining fluid and the baby’s heart rate was approaching dangerous levels, so my doctor recommended we go ahead and do the c-section before it DID become an emergency situation. I cried and was so angry at myself (which is kind of stupid), but in the end, we agreed and they prepped me for surgery. My husband stayed right beside my shoulders the entire time. (He is not a fan of needles or scalpels. However, he can watch hundreds of people be blown to bits in a movie. Things that make you go “hmmm.”) He saw our daughter first (because big huge curtain thing) and, as agreed, he got to choose between the names we had previously agreed upon as our top two choices, based on which name he felt fit her best. He chose Adrienne Laurel. Laurel is in honor of his stepmother, one of the kindest, patient, and most gracious souls to walk the planet. Adrienne? Yeah (or should I say “Yo”?), that’s for Rocky’s wife (although we spelled it differently). Go ahead and giggle, but is she not a great character? Talk about tenacious. And loyal. And cute in hats and glasses.
Our sweet girl embodies all of the best qualities of her namesakes. I am in awe of her sometimes. The year she was born, our income was well below the poverty level, as I was making minimum wage teaching preschool, and Anthony was still in college. We were not planning on having a baby quite yet, but God had other plans. (As I tell my students, who always look mortified when I say this: “No birth control has a 100% guarantee.”) We lived in a 600-square foot studio apartment in the basement of fellow church members’ house. Adrienne’s crib was a port-a-crib that our church had removed from the nursery and put on the curb. Anthony bought some screws and fixed it. I bought cloth diapers and some new-fangled (at the time) velcro diaper covers – at a yard sale. My church friends gave me a baby shower and we got a car seat and swing (the latter took up about 20% of the available apartment floor space…) and lots of little pink clothes. My parents, in-laws, and my husband’s grandparents sent us modest checks to put in the bank or buy other necessities. I signed up for Medicaid and WIC and learned about how to maneuver all those systems. Then, during the hottest July week eastern Washington state had in years, our little black-haired, black-eyed beauty made her appearance. Were we ready? Did we know all the things? Absolutely not. 22 years and four kids later, we still know very little, but we try to learn.
As a teacher, I often have running mental lists of the things I want to teach my students – and my own children – in a given day/week/month/semester. What I’ve been amazed at (over 22 years of parenting and 25 total years of teaching) is how much they teach ME. Sometimes I do not realized those lessons until after the fact, or after a few attempts, but the lessons are profoundly humbling and thought-provoking. So, I thought it appropriate to take some time on Adrienne’s birthday to write a few of them down.
In no particular order, here are 22 things my daughter has taught me. Please note that if a sarcasm font existed, I would have used it on some of these.
- Although it’s wonderful to have a birth plan and be educated about the ins and outs of childbirth, the baby being healthy is the most important thing. I am thankful for a wise friend who told me this before Adrienne was born. She had had two c-sections and told me that if that happened, it would be okay. I listened and smiled politely, never dreaming that a few weeks later, her words would be a balm to my soul.
- There should be no shame attached to being on Medicaid or WIC. I swallowed my pride more than once because I knew I needed the benefits in order to best care for my baby. Although there are certainly abuses to the system (any system…), most people who need this kind of aid truly do need the help, especially when babies are involved.
- Although it IS possible to put on heels and hose and go to church for your baby’s dedication service when she is five days old, that plan is not recommended (although I’m glad we did it quickly because my parents got to be there… but I should have just worn some maternity clothes and been done with it). Do not try to be superwoman. On the other hand, you are not “sick” when recuperating from childbirth (usually). Once you rest and are able to shower and comb your hair, try to get out of the house, even for an hour. Let a trusted friend watch the baby while you go to the library or walk aimlessly through the grocery store.
- If you breastfeed, it will hurt. Period. (Well, there are a couple of people I know who swear it never did, but I think they must have still been on painkillers…). But it will get better and by the time the baby is 3 months old or so, you’ll feel much more comfortable.
- If your husband offers to watch the baby while you rest/go out with a friend/get a pedicure, let him. But don’t expect him to multi-task. When he’s watching the baby, he may just do that: watch the baby. I went back to work when Adrienne was 6 weeks old. Anthony upped his hours at his part-time job on campus and I lowered mine at the daycare center, so we didn’t have to pay for childcare (it was horrendously expensive where we lived at the time). So, we swapped off midday. I got so angry for a while because he didn’t also do the dishes or fold some laundry during his “shift” with Adrienne. Then I saw him on the floor with her, laughing, one day as I arrived home. I realized how fortunate I was to have a husband who wanted to play with his child and help take care of her. And I tried to shut up about the dishes.
- Be picky about babysitters, but do find some so you can go on date nights. Your husband needs your attention and you need his. One day, the kids will all be gone, and if you have not prioritized your marriage, you won’t have one left at that point. We have never had family in town, so as the years have gone by, we paid for sitters sometimes just to go for coffee if we couldn’t afford dinner or a movie.
- Three-year-olds are not really humans. Birthday parties for three-year-olds are hellacious. That is all.
- There is no one-size fits all for potty-training. I was fortunate in that the in-home daycare provider all my children stayed with was a pro at it, so she just told me what to do to reinforce her strategy (lots of M&Ms and peer pressure from the other daycare kids) and I followed her lead. Odds are, your child will not wear diapers to kindergarten.
- There is nothing cuter than preschool dancers at their recital. Hilarious. Then, 15 years later, when she’s dancing across that stage in her senior recital, you will feel like your heart is going to burst.
- When the training wheels come off the bike, your heart will stop. Then it will soar. Then it will stop again (Hugs. Band-Aids. Popsicles). Then soar once more.
- You may cry when that first tooth comes out. And you will put it in a box (Why?) and write a cute, glittery note from the tooth fairy. You will probably stop doing this at some point.
- Even if you hated team sports (Or dance. Or asparagus.), let your child try things he or she expresses interest in. Except for hockey. That’s just craziness.
- Playing in a sandbox is fun. So are tea parties. But so are nights out with your friends. And Elvis impersonator concerts. (Okay, maybe not for everyone). Just do fun things, both with your child and with other adults.
- Putting your child on a school bus is not child neglect. Usually. Each situation is different, but most of the time, the kids are great and the bus driver takes care of them. And they learn so many life skills. And maybe a word or two you would have preferred they not learn for another year or two, but it’s okay. Really. Adrienne does not have a potty-mouth from riding the bus. She doesn’t have a potty-mouth at all, from all accounts. But if she does, it’s from Netflix. Or maybe from me. But not from the school bus.
- I almost hate to add this one because of the mommy-blogosphere overload on this topic… If you work outside the home, you will likely feel some guilt for not being there for every.single.thing. If you stay/work at home, you will likely feel some guilt for not using your degree, etc. All of us just have to get over that and do the best we can. And most of us give up on scrapbooking, so that helps.
- Studies show that if you make it to about 80% (4 out of 5 for my fellow statistics-challenged peeps) of your kids’ activities, they will feel loved and supported. So if you are home with a toddler or in a meeting or out of town and can’t make it to the Thanksgiving program, send your husband or your mother or your friend and tell them to make a video. Watch it later with your child and do not feel guilty.
- You do you. Your kids need to see this and it will help you help them to be themselves.
- When her heart is broken, yours will break, too. Have a slushie and watch a good movie or call a friend. Help her learn healthy coping mechanisms. (I am not great at this, but I do try.) Don’t try to fix things for her. When she isn’t given the dance part or the A or the invitation to a party, just comfort, don’t try to fix it. Let her learn to talk to the adults and peers in her life that challenge her.
- Buy good umbrellas and sports chairs and dental care. Some things are worth the money. Save money other ways so that your child can have valuable experiences and go places. (For us, I saved majorly on clothes. I am the thrift store queen and my kids ALWAYS look cute.). Note I say experiences, not STUFF. The stuff will mostly get thrown out.
- Sometimes you just have to cry. Or laugh. Or both (at the same time, which is actually the best feeling, as Adrienne and all Steel Magnolias fans know). And sometimes the crying or the laughter will come at weird times for weird reasons. And that’s okay.
- Let your child(ren) clean house and don’t always go behind them and redo (except maybe the toilet when company’s coming). No one is going to look that closely. They need to know how to do laundry and share duties in a household, even if they don’t fold the towels like you do. You – and she! – will be SO proud when you walk into her dorm room or apartment and see that she is taking care of her place.
- Let your kids live their own lives as they get older. Even when she makes decisions you aren’t sure about. Even when you know she might be hurt or disappointed. We raise them to fly from the nest, so we must trust the One who knit them in the womb and who loves them so much more than we can even dream! He has plans for them that are so much better than our own measly plans. This is the hardest thing ever, but it just must be so if we want to honor our children as individuals made in God’s image, with their own soul, their own “bent,” their own passions, their own interests, their own loves, their own hates, their own faith.
Okay, there’s my list. I could write so much more. We can never really do all these things on all these lists with which we are bombarded. But, as my good friend tells me often: B is a good grade. Progress, not perfection. Our children are entrusted to our direct care for just a few years. We will mess up. They will mess up and we will wonder what we did or didn’t do to cause them to mess up. If we believe in Jesus, we must remember that it is HE that will author and perfect their faith, not us.
Happy birthday, my sweet Adrienne Laurel. Thank you for teaching me all these things and so much more.
