motherhood began for me when i was nineteen years old.  after a full day of intense laboring and giving birth, i held my warm, squishy baby girl in my arms.  they had just cleaned her up, rolled her into my postpartum room and handed her to me.  there she was.  different from what i had imagined, she was so REAL and i couldn’t believe it.  she was every mistake i had ever made, every tear i had cried and very wrong turn i had ever been down. the road might have been broken but it had led me straight to her. she was absolutely beautiful. 

my other nineteen year old friends were out in the lobby waiting to see us, then they would return to their care-free summer and prepare for the new college semester.  the things i had secretly envied in the previous months of being pregnant, working in a boring office and living with my parents. none of which mattered anymore, at least not in that hazy, blissful bubble.  because she. was. PERFECT.  amazed and lost in the moment, i threw out all the troubles of the past.  any ounce of worry or uncertainly i had carried for all of my life had just dissipated.  i was born again the moment she was born.

a nurse had swaddled her tightly in a white hospital blanket with faded pink and blue lines.  it smelled like hotel laundry, textured and broken-in from being wrapped around many other warm, squishy babies that came before her. all i could do was stare.

the next morning i was in the tiny hospital shower, barely able to stand.  my mom was my support person, but she had stepped out on the phone.  just as i realized she wasn’t in the room, kamille started crying loudly in the bassinet.  so i quickly finished my sponge shower, stepped carefully onto a small towel in the floor. dripping with blood, dizzy and stinging from thirty-something stitches.  throwing my wet hair into a ponytail holder, i heard a nurse approach as she peeked around the corner and into my restroom.

‘you need to stop what you’re doing and take care of your baby!’ she stated with irritation.  my stomach sank with humility.  she was right.  how selfish of me to clean up my wounded vagina in a cold, somber hospital shower a handful of hours after giving birth.  the labor and delivery team was already on my shit list for poor caregiving and being hateful to my family and guests the night before.  we couldn’t wait to leave.  

needless to say, we were discharged as soon as possible.  too soon really, but at least i would have my own shower and bed.  kamille and i lived with my parents at the time through that whole first year.  against my moms desires, i began searching through listings in hopes to find our own place.  raising kamille in the same house as grandparents had its perks, but i knew as she grew older, there needed to be a line of separation.  a place to listen when your mommy says ‘no’, and a place where your maw-maw lets you stay up late and sip on her dr. pepper.  mixing the two environments was out of the question.  mom gave in, spoke with a realtor friend who was just getting ready to list a home for sale and they thought it would be a good fit.  the original owners still lived there, a sweet elderly couple but the man was becoming ill.  they would move closer to their children out of town.  i remember when mom and i stopped by to look at the house one evening on the way to my little brother’s football game.  it was immaculate and reminded me of my late grandmother.  the vibe was cozy and inviting, the man and woman sat on the sofa, hands in lap, slightly grinning and allowing us to peek around.  that was my new home, i just knew it.

signed, closed and picked up the keys just days after my twenty-first birthday, but there were little changes and updates i wanted to make.  since there wasn’t a rush to move in and my parents weren’t emotionally ready for us to leave, we took our time.  mom and i would spend late nights and weekends in our free time getting it ready and spruced up.  we painted every room, shopped for cheap trendy decor at hobby lobby and by february, it was finished.  mom also took me to walmart and spent $400 on a set of pots and pans and a cart full of groceries.  i would have to wait a week or so to have cable, but i had EVERY season of ‘the hills’ on dvd.  

kamille was one and a half years old when we moved in.  there was never time when i felt incomplete, scared nor lonely.  we were only a five minute drive from my parents and visited them often.  her bio father had visitation every other weekend so i mainly used that time to hang out with friends.  i worked forty hours a week as a human resources specialist, a job i had scored when i was pregnant and made friends with management at a tribal casino.  it was well-paying job with full time benefits, especially without a college degree.

mothering felt natural.  it was not the path i had envisioned, but it was purposeful and i’d never been more content.  there was no hurry to get to the next chapter nor ‘settling down’ because i was settled with my daughter.  together we had everything we needed.  all the little milestones like first steps, first words and potty training were exciting and i’d celebrate by snapping an iPhone pic and uploading it to facebook.  ‘my baby is growing up so fast’ was caption attached to her adorable new target outfit and a letter board that said ‘first day of pre k’.  as those accomplishments are significant and special, i had NO idea what was ahead.  kamille was getting older but she was still my little girl.

relationships didn’t really seem to be my thing so i was started to give up on finding a life partner around the time kamille was five.  of course once i developed this way of thinking, i met zach prichard.  on august 2nd 2013, my independent-single-mom-better-alone attitude flew out the window like a breath of fresh air on a clear summer night.  he changed my mind and i was certain he was my person.  a couple times before, i would carefully and strategically plan for the moment i introduced kamille to a anyone months later.  not zach.  thirteen days after that first date i answered his call as i was driving from cosmetology school to pick her up from dance.  he was in town nearby and i excitedly mentioned he should come say hi.  that was without any thought or filter, so… he arrived a minutes later to the dance studio. i very nervously introduced them.  what i would give to go all the way back in time to that scene.  my guy meeting my girl.  it was precious and happened quickly without any preperation, but that was beginning of what would become our family.

here we are several years down the road.  kamille now twelve, rosalie is three, holden is almost one.  in the midst of a pandemic, day 150 or so in our quarantine.  we are pretty strict about it, although kamille still leaves for visitation every other weekend.  we social distance with family, no grocery stores, restaurants, hanging with friends, or even school.  we are going to try to do our part since we are able, to work and school from home as the cases continue to rise in oklahoma.

the joys of being a mom are big, the hardships are too.  there is a nine year + two week gap between kamille and rosie which has been a beautiful thing.  having a baby and a toddler has also created another dynamic, one that pulls even more of my attention.  little kids need immediate, hands-on attention ALL the time.  naps, feedings, nursing, diaper changing, bathing… it never seems to end.  your preteen disappears, off to her room.  she has a new puppy, a phone with the world at he fingertips and a brand new laptop.  that squishy baby is now as big as i am, wearing my clothes, stealing my eyelash curler and shampoo.  often times i’ve wondered if the younger ones steal too much of our energy, but i truly think it is irrelevant.  regardless of how many kids, what hours you work or what space you create for your child, they grow up and become their own person.  they no longer demand your direct attention every single second and they probably prefer their own space.  this happens without warning.  no users manual.  as much as you want to bottle them back into their little girl looks, silly little personalities and NEED for you… you can’t.

sometimes i look at her and i’m freaked out.  how do i have a daughter this old?  oh, maybe because i got pregnant so young.  makes sense.  but still, how??  along with being her mother, best friend and cheerleader, i’m also the ONE person who pushes her sometimes even a little too hard.  i am the one who disciplines her and constructively shapes her.  kamille’s milestones are different than what they used to be, but they are still happening.  we just took her new school year photo holding a chalkboard, ‘hello sixth grade’. 

when i feel the tears forming or the urge to run the other direction, i just envision myself as a girl her age again.  all the weirdness and bodily changes, self-doubt and peer pressure.  it may not be as cute as a kid losing their first tooth or the first day of tap class.  but its the most important milestones that we have ever faced to date.  we face them and bravely, holding hands, embracing what is not only new for her but also new for me.  in this moment of time we are one, the same.  in her eyes, i see me, and she sees hers in mine.  she is not a baby nor a small child anymore, she is a young lady. 

we’re not ever supposed to feel ready for the next chapter.  up to this point, i understand that what i’ve feared would separate us and somehow dismantle my role as her mother, is actually doing the complete opposite.  accepting the fact that i miss who she was years ago, i am ecstatic to know her, be by her side and mentor her throughout the road ahead.  the path we are on doesn’t end- it evolves.  she evolves.  we evolve… together.