Eleven Years and a Day

Yesterday we celebrated the 11th anniversary of the arrival of our first daughter. So today is the first opportunity I have had to catch my breath and reflect on the impact she has made to my life and what the coming years mean. After all, the gift wrap is thrown away, the leftover cake is on the counter (although I am sure there won’t be any left by the time I get home tonight!)

Eleven is double digits. It seems more significant than ten because eleven is heading to middle-school, eleven is discovering puppy love, eleven is wanting a straightening iron for a birthday gift, eleven is wearing junior’s clothes, wanting independence, and POOF- becoming a pre-teen complete with the drama and the attitude.

The past eleven years have gone by so quickly that my head spins. I worry that the moments I captured with the camera in my mind will fade, that they will become dim and I will confuse this magnificent being with one of her sisters. (Goodness knows my Mom still tries to make me believe I was the one who loved mashed potatoes when it was my brother!) The first time she smiled, the look on her face when she was tubing, or driving a go-cart for the first time. Tears when she moved from a friend. The possessiveness of the first time her baby sister came home. The wonder of cooking with her Grandma. The focus of homework, and the pride of a straight A report card. Catching her watch herself in a window- admiring herself for the first time.

I know she struggles with her identity in a family of four girls, and unfortunately, with being the first, we experience firsts along with her. How are we going to respond to sleep-overs, or going to the movies with a friend (without a parent), or spending money, name-brand clothes. Like I said, it makes my head spin! My husband laughs when I share these concerns and just tells me to hang on, that we haven’t seen anything yet- high school is coming up quickly.

I still remember the first time I saw her, this magnificent daughter of mine with her olive skin, dark eyes, and gorgeous auburn hair. I wanted her to look like me. I wanted her to have some outward sign that she was mine. I tried convincing myself for years that I saw this of me, or that of my Mom, but even I had to give up the dream because this precious girl is completely her Dad’s side of the family. I remember not being able to sleep unless she was in my room, then she had to be in my bed. I remember going days without doing laundry or any other household chore because I had to hold her at all times. I didn’t experience that with any of the other girls. My other daughters I could put in the swing or the bouncy chair and leave them be to get this done, or that done.

The road with my daughter has not been easy and in ways unseen to the naked eye, she is exactly like me. She is eager to please others- a little too eager, like me. She cares too much about what other people think- again all me! She would walk through fire to help a friend… this is a trait I am proud of! My daughter has been through a divorce, several moves, and diagnosed with a chronic illness- things that would make adults crumble and many days she came darn close- but she fights. Sometimes she rages against me, and many times I have crumbled in my closet in tears. Sometimes she rages against herself and again, I crumble in my closet in tears.
I worry about this daughter of mine. I worry that she will give up on herself. I worry that she will give up on me. I worry that she will face disappointment that she can’t handle. Of all my girls, she is the one I can see waving good-bye to for college and then only seeing her every other year for the obligatory 2 day visit home. I pray for this daughter of mine. I pray that she enjoys her life, that she really lives her life, that she reaches beyond the stars. With this girl, anything is possible and wherever she goes, a part of me will go with her.