Thursday, January 14, 2010
I cannot believe it has been 27 years since I carried that baby with a shock of thick black hair home from the hospital. I wasn't sure why they were letting teenage me leave the hospital with a baby when I knew nothing about babies - my ex husband whispered, "They haven't asked us for any money yet. Do you think we can do this for free? Birth and boogie?" - and yet we made it: here she is and she is wonderful. I am proud and amazed and now that all these years have passed she's my best friend and that too is amazing. And not much has changed: she woke up this morning and complained that Django was between the mattress and the wall and it was more or less the same as when she woke up around age 7 and complained that Andy the cat was on her face: "I opened my eyes and all I could see was fur!"
Well. This parenthood thing. I am the richer for it and, I believe, so is the world. This is my daughter, who works with the kids that most of us never see or know about, who spends her life making sure that children with all kinds of disabilities get a little better every day. I am so proud of her I could burst and today she is 27.