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[Editor’s Note: This post is today’s featured entry in the Journey to Motherhood with Ricki Lake story contest. Find out how to submit your story and see the video message from Ricki here -- you could win a wonderful prize package! -- Jenna]
As they laid our beautiful baby girl on my chest, I ran my fingers over her fuzzy eyebrows. She struggled to open her eyes, pulling her head like a magnet toward the overhead hospital light; it was a good sign. She was serious, quiet, tiny, sensitive, and a deep thinker. All of this was evident within the first minute of meeting her face to face. Her dark hair was already an inch long, making her appear as if she was wearing a wig.
“Hello, Crystal Faith,” my husband greeted her. “Welcome to our world.” She wrapped her hand around his finger, capturing his heart for a lifetime, as he carried her down the hall to the nursery.
So began our journey. As a 17-year-old girl, the list of what I had yet to learn about being a mother was lengthy. But somehow, in those pre-dawn hours before the rest of the world awakened, I realized that she had no idea how clueless I was. She accepted me as her mother.
As groups of doctors and nurses topped with blue shower caps collectively poked, prodded and peeked at areas of my body that I had hoped to keep covered I realized, ironically, that none of them cared about my age. They treated me as a patient; a mother, even. They used words I did not comprehend to describe what they had done to my body while they told me what to watch for with my baby.
My baby. I had to keep telling myself she was mine.
“How’s your episiotomy?” a hurried nurse asked as she propped the door open with her elbow.
“Um, Episiotomy? She is great, and we named her Crystal Faith!” I boasted.
Too excited to sleep as instructed, I spent the day on the phone retelling the "Crystal Story." Since she had arrived two weeks early, this was breaking news to most of our loved ones. The time arrived that I did regret the lack of sleep, but once they brought the blanketed bundle with the pink cap to my room, sleep was the furthest thing from my mind.
“God, please show me how to be her mother,” I prayed, as my breathing fell into rhythm with hers while she cuddled into a ball against my chest. She trusted me to do this, and that was all that mattered. I was amazed that she knew how to sneeze, cough, yawn, cry and stretch without anyone showing her. It seemed that she knew what to do, so I trusted her to carry me along, teaching me everything I needed to know.
When it came time to leave the hospital, though I was terrified of taking care of her on my own, I looked forward to bringing her home to our tiny one bedroom apartment.
The only open space available for her baby bed was right next to the refrigerator, a row of adorable pink clothing on a rolling rack beside that. We had little space and few toys or extras, but we did have each other, and my promise to her that I would figure it out as I went along.
We have done just that. My baby girl is now grown, and I often tell others that we grew up together. It is so true. She gave me reason to take chances and to overcome doubt and fear. If I struggled with a decision, I wondered how I would present that situation to her one day, and always chose correctly. I answered her questions honestly, and pushed her to discover her own answers, just as she had done for me.
My journey into motherhood came long before I was ready. But thank goodness, she never noticed.
Abbandoned Blog : Seeking God, as Abba, When You Feel Abandoned. http://abbandoned.com
Author of The Parent's Guide to Uncluttering Your Home, , released in April, 2011.
Photo Credit: mdid.
