Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Fourteen

I didn't suffer through hours of labor in a hospital delivery room.

Instead, my labor took place in the hospital hallway, just outside a set of heavy wooden doors leading to the maternity ward. That's where I waited while, a few feet away, a woman I had barely met was going through the horrific pains of induced labor, as well as the pains of uncertainty.

She was having a baby she knew she should not keep, should not try to raise on her own. After much prayer and thought and deliberation, she had chosen me -- a woman on a piece of paper, a friend of a friend, a voice on the phone, a woman who was on the verge of desperate. I had only suffered through six years of unanswered prayers, of monthly meltdowns, a few failed science experiments, some false hopes and one giant broken promise.

And at that moment, on that January day, we were both trying to remember to breathe.

A few minutes later, I was allowed inside the doors and into a delivery room. It was all already over. Then I was handed the most precious, most wanted baby ever born. "Your daughter," she said. It took me some time to believe it.

Instantly, we fell in love. Two days later, we took her home. Eighteen months later a judge said she was ours for real.

Now it's 14 years later.

That tiny little shrimp-colored baby is all grown-up, morphed into a beautiful, quirky, retro, unique, hard-headed young woman I absolutely adore with her own style, her own ideas, her own beliefs.

If you've followed this blog over the years, you know that she has gone from the I-Only-Wear-Pink phase, to the Disney princess phase, to the Hannah Montana phase, to the Harry Potter phase to the Doctor Who phase -- with a few pit stops in between (Kim Possible anyone?).

But now that she is a full-fledged teenager, she has left behind her Disney ways. She is now my little retro girl who doesn't do Facebook (it's stupid) or Twitter. She does have an Instagram account, but she has blocked me from tagging her on it.

She has a Kindle she never uses. A laptop that "sucks," she says. And an iPhone that has the most eclectic mix of music you'll ever hear --  The Arctic Monkeys, The Killers, Fall Out Boys, Two Door Cinema Club, The Naked and Famous (really?) and dozens of other bands I have never heard of.

My retro kid asked for -- and received -- a record player for Christmas, even though her dad and I tossed our old vinyl collections years ago. (Shame on us!) And her first records? The Beatles -- Abbey Road, The White Album and Sgt. Pepper. She wants more.

She still sings beautifully ( but won't unless bribed), draws fabulously (but only her own little quirky characters who live in her head) and writes wonderfully. She is trying to learn to play the ukulele. She also made her lounge singing debut in December, wowing the elderly crowd with her rendition of La Vie en Rose, a beautiful song released as a single in 1947 but made famous more recently in an episode of "How I Met Your Mother."

She has seen every episode. And "Friends." And "The Office." And "Orange is the New Black." She did finally give up on "American Horror Story." The clown got her.

She has made the Honor Roll at her school both semesters.

She has graduated from her macaroni and cheese addiction to more of a Pizza Rolls every day thing.
And she is taller. Straighter. Stronger. She underwent a grueling 7 1/2 hour surgery  in July to correct her severe scoliosis, amazing all of her doctors and nurses (and her parents) with her tolerance for pain. She took the drugs for about two weeks. That's all. My teeth still hurt when I look at her scar. To her, it's a  badge of honor, of a warrior. She grew about three inches during the surgery.

And of course there are fewer kisses. Fewer hugs. Fewer morning cuddles before school. That's not cool, you know. She still hates it when I car dance, too. And when I try to mess up her hair.

Before her 14th year is done she will be a freshman in high school. She already is thinking about college and what she wants to be when she grows up -- more. Today it's film making (amazingly, the same thing I said when I left for college).

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

All I know is that, 14 years ago, a miracle occurred. Two strangers found each other, trusted each other and helped each other. An empty heart was filled. A dilemma was solved. And a family was created. We can't imagine it any other way.








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