A Mother's Journey

Today I am missing my daughter like crazy. Every day I miss her like crazy, but today, it's worse. There's no particular reason. There's no holiday. No birthday. Nothing particular about October 17th in our lives. I just miss her.

You know, we go through nine months of discomfort - mixed in with a heady sense of wonder and anticipation - incredible joy and debilitating fears - and then another however many hours of a pain so excruciating you swear you're never ever going to forget how horrible it felt. And then you do. And we produce lives.

Lying there in the hospital bed, feeling so gross and sweaty and sore you know you'll never ever be yourself again, you look into the eyes of that little being and realize that you're right. As of that moment, you never ever are going to be yourself again. Not the self you knew before you checked into that hospital. You've become something entirely different. A mother.

Seems like one should fight that a little bit, maybe be a little resentful that you've just lost you and you didn't see it coming, and yet, I embraced that new woman, without looking back. Even for a second. I held that new being, cared for her, embraced the changes she brought with a heart that was full and thankful. And I do not regret doing so. At all. Period.

For years I put aside my needs - even biological ones a time or two! - to serve her every need. I made mistakes. Lord knows, I'm not a perfect person by any means. I yelled sometimes. And I demanded. But, boy did I love. With every single piece of my mother's heart, I loved that child.

I watched her grow. Watched her change. Watched, sometimes painfully, sometimes ingraciously, as she slowly started taking the decision making for her life out of my hands and into her own. And when she moved into her own apartment, I packed for her. And unpacked for her. I ran the show. And afterward, as soon as I was alone, I cried until I thought I wouldn't stop. It happened that way for weeks.

She's all grown up now. One ofArizona's newest prosecuting attorneys. She has a decent salary and her own benefits. Great benefits. Health insurance, more than four weeks of vacation if you include paid holidays, retirement. I'm so proud of her. Comforted by her success. She's a good, decent, loving person who has her whole life ahead of her.

And I've got my life, too. That person that left in that hospital room so many years before has resurfaced. She's married to a man who, while not perfect by any means, is perfect for her. She's honestly and truly in love - the stuff she writes about. She's learning how to roof, and frame and plumb. She mows the lawn with a riding mower and her four pound princess on her lap. She checked her oil and bought some. She filled her windshield washer fluid. She's adored and pampered in all the right places.

She's got a career that she loves. She just filmed a documentary with NBC - that went very well, thank you, in spite of the near miss of an outside shoot. (Said husband quickly came up with a space heater and a very long extension cord that allowed said heater to hide underneath the wicker sofa upon which she sat. Did I mention she's pampered in all the right places?) Booksignings are successful like never before (also thanks to that husband who stands at the door and hands out bookmarks and invites people to meet the author). She's got two more interviews tomorrow and will be in Memphis and Phoenix and Michigan for signings over the next weeks.

She...me...Life is good. Thankfully, honestly good. I don't like Ohio, never have in spite of the fact that I grew up here, but I love my home. It is a home. And it fits us. It's quaint and different - just like the two of us. I'm living authentically. I'm really living. I have my ups and downs - I've come to realize I always will. I'm intense. Stuff happens. But I love my intensity. It allows me to feel things so completely. To write the books that I write.

I love that I don't have to pretend, even to myself, anymore. I love that I can get down and find nothing sacred and reach out and get lists of things that are and I love even more that I can read the lists and nod my head and see the truth in them. Feel the truth in them. And be up and running and believing once again.

I love life.

And I miss my daughter. She's raised, but the life is never done. That woman that was born that day in the hospital all those years ago - that mother - she's never going away.