Once again, I am facing a ‘how did this happen?’ moment. And I am not alone.
Our oldest baby is turning 40 this week. This is the little golden-haired cherub who made me a mother. That realization did not hit me until she was about a week old. I frantically struggled to dress her in the clothing sent to her by doting friends, relatives, grandparents and employers before she outgrew them. One morning it occurred to me that I had her forever, to choose what to put on her, that the days had no expiration date.
The next thing I knew, she was a toddler, preferring purple overalls to dresses. She was also prone to stripping off her clothing and running around in the altogether. Somewhere there is a photo of her sitting in the dryer, bare bottomed, pacifier clutched in her teeth.
The other children started coming and Katie took it in stride, other than wanting to name one of her sisters MacGyver and once toting the three-dayold baby down the hardwood hallway, clutched in a blanket. Harmless, really.
I blinked twice and she was in high school, and we were perpetually shopping for formal dresses. I loved those days because she leaned toward the simple, elegant styles that did not shock a parent’s sensibilities. More Audrey Hepburn than Mae West.
Kate has always had a good head on her shoulders and a solid way of making decisions. Once in high school she wanted to attend a teen night club. A cop friend had told me there were drugs available there, so I explained why I would not let her go.
“Mom,” she said, “I can buy drugs in English class, and you make me go to school.” Point made, I let her go.
It seems like we drifted apart for a while, she was busy living her own life and I was too.
She went through relationships, including a marriage that did not last, until last year, she announced she was going to marry Adam.
Separated by miles, I did not make many of the wedding decisions, but I was able to go with her to the final fitting of her gown.
There she stood, reflected in the multiple mirrors, all grown up now, woman, not girl. And yes, I did tear up, it was impossible not to.
The next day I was there to help her dress and realized I had been wrong all those years ago. The days did have an expiration date, and somewhere while we were living life, that date had passed. I fastened the neck button on her gown, anyway, refusing to bow to time. She was, and always will be, my baby.