The thought of me bearing my soul on a social media site is slightly nauseating. I am not one to express emotions, especially when it will put me in a vulnerable light. I can not however, continue holding in any of these feelings. My daughter…the one I gave birth to on April 17, 2010, will be five tomorrow. FIVE. One can sit back and lament about how fast time goes and you know what? I am on that pity train. I am riding it, I am in charge of navigating it, and unless someone comes and stops me from being a ball of insanity….there is no telling where I am leading it to. I thought for a second, or 47 minutes to be exact….that I was going to download some crazy program to make a collage out of all the birthday pictures over the last five years. Then I started going through pictures from her first year of life. Like, yeah, first year of LIFE. I created a life. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am 100% a fuck up in most of what I do…but I, myself (I mean, yeah there were doctors involved and a sperm donor), increased the population by one on that day.
Perhaps my biggest and most successful accomplishment to date….but I think it is safe to say ever. They say a mother wears her heart on the outside of her body when she has a child. In all seriousness, my daughter is my life. I never knew, in my cynical, jaded ways as a human being that it would be possible to love someone as much as I love her. I never knew it was possible to want to cry just at the thought of seeing her when I pick her up from school. Or feel pain she feels when she gets hurt or is sad. I never thought I would ever allow myself to knock down the titanium walls I have surrounding my life to let someone in. I mean, granted, I have no choice since she sort of is my spawn…and I am kind of in charge of raising her and providing the best possible life a human can for another…but like, I honestly love her. I would beg, borrow, steal, lie for my kid. I would do anything for her.
Part of me wanted to write a letter to her today and put it in her card….I was thinking of making it easy for her to understand, using small words….but then I didn’t feel like having to re-write everything because tears started pouring all over the place. Like I was sitting here moments ago sobbing….for who knows why. I mean, I am sure a lot of the mothers out in social media land know what I am talking about. I made it from 2010-2012 in pictures…saving my favorites. I couldn’t keep looking at them! Not only did I watch her stinky little face mature…but I started recalling every day that the pictures were taken. Every memory that they created. I started remembering what it was like to hold her little tiny body and rock her to sleep. That I only felt safe and that she was safe if she was in my arms…literally. Granted, co-sleeping is a tough habit to break, part of me doesn’t give a shit.
I remembered her little laugh, the first time she smiled, the first word she said (Dec. 17, 2010…”Elmo” while pointing to him in a new book my parents got for her). I remembered all the things she used to do that were so endearing and how these little things that she did got me through some inconvenient and dark times. Knowing that her life literally depended on me was all I needed to not fall apart when everything else around me was becoming destroyed. I mean, I lost my aunt a 2 weeks before she was born…something I never thought I’d get over…I went back to school for a second masters and pulled all nighters not only because of her, but because I had a few hundred page dissertation to work on and prep for two schools at a major university. All so that I didn’t have to be poor for the rest of her life getting paid in pennies as a social worker. She got me through countless nights when all I wanted to do was crawl in to a ball of nothing and fade away in to the “I am not good enough land” everyone else was trying to damn me to.
I mean, I could seriously ride this pity party all night…I think I started with that. My daughter will literally never know how she saved my life. The beauty of it all is that she is the most caring, heart felt little human ever. She is smart beyond her classmates, she is kind, she is brave, and she has this spunk about her that I know all too well.
All of the psychology text books I have ever had the pleasure of reading, and the peer-reviewed empirically based journal articles, shun the idea of befriending a child. They encourage to set strict boundaries…to remain the person in charge….and while I agree that befriending your kids is half the reason why this upcoming generation is ruining much of what the country had going for it, with their lack of respect, impulsive cravings for drama and confrontation, the need for instant gratification, and their sheer and utter disregard for anything involving substance of any kind, I am not so sure I can block out this thought that she may be my best friend. I know, it sounds way more insane than I mean it to be. Obviously I know she is not my friend, but sometimes she is the only person there for me. Big burden…little girl. I get it. But so does she. There are times we are sitting watching TV and in my mind I am like, okay…despite popular belief I really need a hug right now. And without saying anything, or changing the way I am sitting, or even sighing…she curls closer to me and holds my hand. Like she gets it. She gets me. And maybe that is what I am most grateful for.
I am well aware I am a difficult person to deal with. I am unpredictable, moody, irrational at times because I get passionate about certain things. I am stubborn and regardless if I am wrong or right, I am always right and will prove it even if it means the sky than becomes green. I have heard my whole life I wasn’t good enough…whether I wasn’t thin enough compared with the other dancers, or not popular enough, or cool enough, or not afraid to speak my mind…all the bridges I have burned by being honest and truthful…all of the shit that I have heard people say about me and continue to say about me….those who told me for 8 years that I was stupid and a loser and all these really other inspiring qualities….Gabby reminds me that I don’t have the option to listen to them. I don’t get to acknowledge the pain I have felt anymore because I am her role model. And I will be dammed if someone ever makes her feel the way people have made me feel before. My daughter will know that she is loved, she is perfect because she is herself, and no matter what she wants to do or become or what she does, as long as she is doing the best she can with what she has, than that is enough.
I sometimes think about becoming a consultant to teach unconditional love, because in all seriousness, it is a huge part of positive attachment with parents and their children and something this American culture is so far removed from. Just to remind parents that kids are kids….they are going to freak out and tantrum and be brats, and piss you off, and not listen, and talk back, and at times maybe even hate you for being there no matter what. But with that said, that is your job to be there, no matter what. That is the sole responsibility of a parent….to protect and support. That is the basis for loving someone unconditionally. Does this mean I don’t get pissed off when Gabby doesn’t listen? Hell no. Her ass sits in time out just like the rest of the unruly and misbehaved children in the world. But it does mean that at the end of the day or when the moment asks for it….she goes to sleep knowing I will always be there for her.
At five years old, my daughter has done some pretty impeccable things. Most of them are displayed in her unbelievable understanding of human emotions. Inevitably, this will be a double-edged sword, as I already see it manifesting in to something that will probably hurt her feelings. That attention she constantly seeks out and confusion she feels when the feelings aren’t reciprocated. She will again, unfortunately, have to learn how to cope with that loss and sense of abandonment. But so far, from what I see, she is doing an excellent job and powering through it and braving the elements. I see that it is molding her in to a strong little child. One who knows what she wants and quite frankly, what she deserves. And most of the time, doesn’t settle.
Anyway – I could drudge on about how great my kid is….but those of you who know her, have no choice other than to agree, because it is true. She is a special little girl.
Time does fly….and at 1:36PM tomorrow, my little stinky face will be five years old. No picture will bring back that first iota of emotion I felt when they put her on my chest after just having labored for 19.5 hours….and looking at her covered in disgusting fluids I requested not be on her when they gave her to me….but having her stare back at me crying and pissed off I just forced her out of her warm comfortable home….only to be all cleaned up and draped in blankets to stare at me the entire time. For hours. Just stared at me. I never cried when she was born. Probably because I was so overwhelmed with fear that I was responsible for her life….and took this responsibility seriously. But now, looking at old pictures and reading about old times….I can’t help but water work it out!
On that note….tissues, chocolate, and comedy are in order. I have never felt so naked in my life. Blah.
[4/17/2015]