Full Circle

My daughter is seventeen now. I cannot even begin to tell you how weird that is. When I had her all of those years ago, I wasn't happy. She was a surprise (I was on the pill) and one that I wasn't at all sure I wanted. There are all sorts of reasons I felt that way that I'll get into at some point maybe, but the bottom line is that it was very difficult for me.

I would hold her and stare at her and wonder how I was going to raise her. How I would do right by her. How I would love her the way she deserved to be loved. How was I going to do this for eighteen years? It seemed an eternity when every hour was a struggle to get through.

But hour-by-hour, day-by-day, week-by-week, month-by-month, year-by-year, I did it. Sometimes plodding with the heaviness of the responsibility, and sometimes going at the speed of light trying to keep up with her ever-changing needs.

And now here we are. Looking at colleges and getting a driver's license and debating the pros and cons of getting a tattoo (God help me). She is growing up - almost there - and I just can't believe it. When you're in the throes of parenthood, whether it's the snotty little mean girl in first grade or the utter cruelty of middle school or that first real heartbreak in high school, it feels like this will be your life forever. You acclimate to it and just get on with it every day. Then "suddenly" they are approaching that magic age of eighteen when you're supposedly off the hook as a parent. That moment that you've looked forward to - and dreaded - all at the same time, is finally arriving.

Your child is grown.

And your heart is stretched and tugged and tested. Both from the heartache of losing her to adulthood and from the unbelievable excitement about the next phase of your life finally arriving. That phase that you daydreamed about on the really hard days and dreaded on the really good ones.

It's then though, that you realize that life has come full circle. Sixteen years, two months, one week and six days ago I was driving in my car with my two-week old baby and realized with some dread that while I love this child more than I ever thought I could love another human being, I would never really be mentally free again. That terrified me. I had the gift and privilege of raising this beautiful girl, but with it came the burden of worrying about her until the day I died. There was no getting around it.

And worry I did! Hand-wringing, gut-wrenching, hair-pulling worry. But I've also laughed a lot. And beamed with pride. And reveled in her accomplishments. And she has filled my heart over and over again with her sweet personality, great sense of humor, intelligence and strength.

So, as I dropped her off this past week for a week-long test run at her dream college, my car was empty of her and her stuff and that long ago car seat and baby paraphernalia. But my mind was not empty of her. She remained in my thoughts. And I realized once again, all of these years after that moment in the car with my newborn, that she always would. She would be ever-present. I would always worry about her. I would always love her. I would always parent her. She would always have my heart.