A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Today my daughter turns 19. She's home from college for the summer, having completed her freshman year.

I'm simply stunned at those two sentences.

When you have your first child, there are so many well-meaning and wise mothers (and fathers) that give you good advice. The best was "enjoy it all, because it will go so quickly."  Hey, they weren't kidding. It feels like yesterday when we celebrated 18 years and watched her walk across a stage to collect her high school diploma. But it feels like hours ago when I first held her in my arms. She was nine-days-old and a tiny, tiny premature baby. I had waited so patiently, worrying constantly as I sat by her isolette in the neonatal intensive care unit. "Can I hold her today?" I'd ask the nurses every single day since my daughter arrived early.

Finally the day came that I was able to cradle her in my arms. Those skilled, loving nurses maneuvered IV lines, a gastric line and a nasal cannula for oxygen just so I could hold my two-pound sweetie all swaddled in blankets. I sat in the rocking chair and cooed over her, urging her to fight and grow. And I cried again as I had been doing since her birth. I was young and scared of losing my little girl. The NICU was a scary place and the doctors and nurses rushed about constantly. We got very little information.

But these tears were different. These were tears of joy as I held her. Tears of pride that I was a new mother holding her baby, and thinking I "had grown up."  Ha! If I only knew how much more I had to learn.

When I am down or distressed, I often think of the moment I first held my child, not right at birth, but later when she was stabilized.  I think of the calming effect that moment had on my frayed nerves. I sat proudly in a rocking chair right next to her isolette and rocked gently so as not to startle her. We could have been the only two people in the world at that moment -- and probably were. I looked into her blue eyes and thought, "I love you more than anything and always will." Now I realize it's a little thing called unconditional love.

Nineteen years later, I still hold that unconditional love and I always will. Sure we scuff with our children as they age, we take jabs at one another or find a toddler exasperating at times. But that cool, calm, unconditional love is just always beneath the surface. And it always, always will be there. Life is just good like that.

So here's to a crazy little thing called "love." Happy birthday, baby. I love you more than anything.