anniversary

Thirty years ago, just after midnight on this date, I became a mother for the first time. It was a dark and rainy night.

I wasn't ready. I thought I was. But I wasn't prepared for the actual birth, though I'd done all my homework. The physical nature of birth, the way the animal body takes over; can't say that was discussed at prenatal class. I wasn't prepared for the emotional nature of birth, the realization of responsibility, the absolute impossibility yet absolute necessity to keep safe this new tiny being. I wasn't prepared for the chasm that opened up between the me that was and the me that now is. And there's no going back to try out that other pathway.

And I wouldn't.

The other thing that I don't remember picking up on before I had children, was how much they would teach me about myself. Maybe that's not universal. I only know my own trajectory. My knee-jerk emotional responses, unattended personality traits, they got magnified, and I had to look at them.

And I became an adult by having children, not in the physical sense, that was a given, but in how I approached life. I'm not saying this is the only way to become an adult, but it chanced to be how it worked out for me. The birth of my three children put me on the other side, as someone who had to look ahead, had to consider consequences, had to plan. Had to be responsible. Was responsible. It made mortality real, oddly enough. Before my daughter was born, I don't think I believed in death. Now I could see how important it was to keep this small heart beating, not to mention my own. It's maybe the first inkling that I had in the world that I was essential, too.

This I owe to all my children. There is no favourite here, and I'm not just saying that. It turns out my heart expands, and can fit them all. But there is a first, and today is her day.

She is beautiful in every way.