Her name is T'ea, which means 'Gift from God'
These last few days I've been giving a lot of thought to the young woman that is currently sleeping blissfully below me. Around this time 18 years ago, I was in labour with T'ea, and had been for nearly 24 hours.
I mention it because it's meaningful for you to understand that the 30+ hours that I was in labour were the most difficult T'ea has ever been. All because she wanted to enter the world "Sunny Side Up" -- a term that means face first rather than crown of her head first (or doctor irony speak for head thrown back and trying to get something the side of a softball out of a gumball machine).
I've spent the last 24 hours trying to think of a time that T'ea was troublesome, trying or in any way difficult. And I have come up with absolutely nothing. Which leads me to conclude that she got all her badness out in the 36 hours prior to entering this world.
I'm sure when I post this her father will argue with me and remind me of something, but the important thing is that I do not remember a single instance. But as I walked through the memories I remembered some good ones.
Stunning | I was completely shocked by how breathtakingly beautiful she was at birth. Let's be honest folks, babies are not typically pretty when they are born, they are wrinkly, red, bald and generally screaming. She was none of these things. I remember seeing her being wrapped in a blanket in the couple of moments after birth, she was quiet and calm, with a mop of curly black hair, eyes wide open looking around the room, at me, the nurse, the light from the window. She's even more stunning now. I have pictures to prove it:
Love, love, love | If I fast forward to the summer she was 3, I remember a day when she actually had a meltdown. She'd been sailing with my parents for a week, we met them up in Lund to pick T'ea up, and were spending a few days sailing with them. After catching up for about half an hour, I told T'ea to wait with Poppa on the boat while I went to the car. She instantly starting sobbing uncontrollably, I remember us all looking at each other completely baffled, none of us had any idea what to do with a crying T'ea. Given it was such a rare occurrence, I picked her up and tried to calm her down. Once her breathing returned to normal, she tightened her grip around my neck and whispered: "Please don't go, I misseded you Momma". She thought I was leaving without her, and I'd just arrived. Once I assured her I was just going to get my bag so we could spend more time together her eyes lit up and instantly laughed aloud at her assumption.
Funny Is as Funny Does | T'ea is good at laughing at herself, I credit her dad with this because I'm still figuring out this skill. She laughed at herself from throwing a fit once she realized I wasn't messing with her. One of my favourite memories was of T'ea and Matthew in Mexico, they'd been playing with some local kids and when they returned T'ea was holding Matty's hand, swinging it about, occasionally whacking him with it. They are both laughing, and T'ea is repeating over and over "Sabunitza". Brian and I can't figure out our little 'locos' so the conversation goes like this:
T'ea: "Sabunitza, Sabunitza"
Brian: What does that mean?
T'ea: "You know, like in the Tarzan movie when Turk is hitting Tarzan?"
Brian: *Thinking* do you mean "Stop hitting yourself"?
T'ea: *Thinking* Oh, yah! *ROARS WITH LAUGHTER*
She gets the joke she's been telling for weeks without understanding (or the proper enunciation of) the punchline, and now she's on the ground laughing. She's 4....
4 going on on 30 | Then suddenly she's 16 and we realize that we're going to graduate (high school/grad school) at the same time.... I tell her we should take a trip to celebrate together and ask where she'd like to go. She says Greece. I think Greece sounds lovely and am curious why (thinking that it might have something to do with a movie about travelling pants...) she goes all serious for a moment and says, "because I want to see history, not just read about it... I want to see things that have stood and been seen by people before anyone can even remember. Is that weird?" No it's not T'ea...not in any way....and I chide myself for being surprised.
She's quick to laugh and be silly with her family and close friends. Ridiculous even.
But she's quiet. Often people mistake her as shy, but she's never hid behind me, or been unwilling to talk to anyone.... she just prefers to watch the action quietly (and then talk to me about it all the way home!).
Also, she's responsible, she did not get this from either of us, we are impulsive, spontaneous fools. Responsibility does NOT come naturally to her parents, much to her dismay. She does her homework without being asked, for hours, and then nags me when I forget to sign a permission slip. WHAT CHILD DOES THAT?! Oh yes, she does it now, but she also did it when she was 5. And not in a precocious nagging way like some children I know, but in a thoughtful: "Here let me get you a pen mummy" way and then hugs me when I do. Weird. Weird and awesome.
I could tell stories such as these all day.
Then all night.
Then all the next day too....
The bottom line is this beautiful human being is 18 today. She's an adult. I used to say to people, that my goal in life was to get her through her childhood without messing her up. If I could do that she'd be just fine. She was delivered to us perfect, and as she enters adulthood, I'm in awe of the woman she's become.
I posted two days ago how completely oblivious we were that our lives were about to be changed forever. Obviously, we know that having a baby would change things, but what we were oblivious to was HOW those things changed in the most unexpected ways. We expected sleepless nights, and tears (from baby and us), and challenges. Instead we got a smiling, cooing, cuddly, happy little girlie.
We got a funny, quirky, authentic, humble, observant, thoughtful, compassionate, kind, loving woman of great love and great faith.
The night T'ea was born they gave me crazy medication to help with the pain that was inflicted by an overzealous OBGYN -- it made be a bit of a sentimental shmuk, and I wrote this, first on the back of the "how to give your baby a bath" instruction sheet (really, an instruction sheet?!) later when I stumbled upon it, I transfered it to a computer, thinking it would be meaningful some day...I'm not sure I intended to give it to you on a specific day, but I'm glad I kept it, and today seems fitting.
You've been looking farther and deeper ever since. When I wrote this, I didn't know who God was, let alone the magnitude of the gift he'd given me. What a privilege it's been to get to know you, and to discover His goodness together.
I love you baby girl.... Happy First Day of Adulthood!
I mention it because it's meaningful for you to understand that the 30+ hours that I was in labour were the most difficult T'ea has ever been. All because she wanted to enter the world "Sunny Side Up" -- a term that means face first rather than crown of her head first (or doctor irony speak for head thrown back and trying to get something the side of a softball out of a gumball machine).
I've spent the last 24 hours trying to think of a time that T'ea was troublesome, trying or in any way difficult. And I have come up with absolutely nothing. Which leads me to conclude that she got all her badness out in the 36 hours prior to entering this world.
I'm sure when I post this her father will argue with me and remind me of something, but the important thing is that I do not remember a single instance. But as I walked through the memories I remembered some good ones.
Stunning | I was completely shocked by how breathtakingly beautiful she was at birth. Let's be honest folks, babies are not typically pretty when they are born, they are wrinkly, red, bald and generally screaming. She was none of these things. I remember seeing her being wrapped in a blanket in the couple of moments after birth, she was quiet and calm, with a mop of curly black hair, eyes wide open looking around the room, at me, the nurse, the light from the window. She's even more stunning now. I have pictures to prove it:
Love, love, love | If I fast forward to the summer she was 3, I remember a day when she actually had a meltdown. She'd been sailing with my parents for a week, we met them up in Lund to pick T'ea up, and were spending a few days sailing with them. After catching up for about half an hour, I told T'ea to wait with Poppa on the boat while I went to the car. She instantly starting sobbing uncontrollably, I remember us all looking at each other completely baffled, none of us had any idea what to do with a crying T'ea. Given it was such a rare occurrence, I picked her up and tried to calm her down. Once her breathing returned to normal, she tightened her grip around my neck and whispered: "Please don't go, I misseded you Momma". She thought I was leaving without her, and I'd just arrived. Once I assured her I was just going to get my bag so we could spend more time together her eyes lit up and instantly laughed aloud at her assumption.
Funny Is as Funny Does | T'ea is good at laughing at herself, I credit her dad with this because I'm still figuring out this skill. She laughed at herself from throwing a fit once she realized I wasn't messing with her. One of my favourite memories was of T'ea and Matthew in Mexico, they'd been playing with some local kids and when they returned T'ea was holding Matty's hand, swinging it about, occasionally whacking him with it. They are both laughing, and T'ea is repeating over and over "Sabunitza". Brian and I can't figure out our little 'locos' so the conversation goes like this:
T'ea: "Sabunitza, Sabunitza"
Brian: What does that mean?
T'ea: "You know, like in the Tarzan movie when Turk is hitting Tarzan?"
Brian: *Thinking* do you mean "Stop hitting yourself"?
T'ea: *Thinking* Oh, yah! *ROARS WITH LAUGHTER*
She gets the joke she's been telling for weeks without understanding (or the proper enunciation of) the punchline, and now she's on the ground laughing. She's 4....
4 going on on 30 | Then suddenly she's 16 and we realize that we're going to graduate (high school/grad school) at the same time.... I tell her we should take a trip to celebrate together and ask where she'd like to go. She says Greece. I think Greece sounds lovely and am curious why (thinking that it might have something to do with a movie about travelling pants...) she goes all serious for a moment and says, "because I want to see history, not just read about it... I want to see things that have stood and been seen by people before anyone can even remember. Is that weird?" No it's not T'ea...not in any way....and I chide myself for being surprised.
She's quick to laugh and be silly with her family and close friends. Ridiculous even.
But she's quiet. Often people mistake her as shy, but she's never hid behind me, or been unwilling to talk to anyone.... she just prefers to watch the action quietly (and then talk to me about it all the way home!).
Also, she's responsible, she did not get this from either of us, we are impulsive, spontaneous fools. Responsibility does NOT come naturally to her parents, much to her dismay. She does her homework without being asked, for hours, and then nags me when I forget to sign a permission slip. WHAT CHILD DOES THAT?! Oh yes, she does it now, but she also did it when she was 5. And not in a precocious nagging way like some children I know, but in a thoughtful: "Here let me get you a pen mummy" way and then hugs me when I do. Weird. Weird and awesome.
Then all night.
Then all the next day too....
The bottom line is this beautiful human being is 18 today. She's an adult. I used to say to people, that my goal in life was to get her through her childhood without messing her up. If I could do that she'd be just fine. She was delivered to us perfect, and as she enters adulthood, I'm in awe of the woman she's become.
I posted two days ago how completely oblivious we were that our lives were about to be changed forever. Obviously, we know that having a baby would change things, but what we were oblivious to was HOW those things changed in the most unexpected ways. We expected sleepless nights, and tears (from baby and us), and challenges. Instead we got a smiling, cooing, cuddly, happy little girlie.
We got a funny, quirky, authentic, humble, observant, thoughtful, compassionate, kind, loving woman of great love and great faith.
The night T'ea was born they gave me crazy medication to help with the pain that was inflicted by an overzealous OBGYN -- it made be a bit of a sentimental shmuk, and I wrote this, first on the back of the "how to give your baby a bath" instruction sheet (really, an instruction sheet?!) later when I stumbled upon it, I transfered it to a computer, thinking it would be meaningful some day...I'm not sure I intended to give it to you on a specific day, but I'm glad I kept it, and today seems fitting.
T'ea, Someday you're not going to be tiny like today, you're going to be an adult and I won't be able to hold you and keep you safe. But right now, as the two of us are alone for the first time the thing that strikes me most about you is your wonder. You've been wide awake for over an hour, you'd think you'd be tired after the day you'd had, but instead you are looking at everything. My eyes, the light in the hall, the blanket you are wrapped in, my hand drifting across your face. They told me that you can't see very far, and yet I don't believe them...
You're fussed by nothing, in awe of everything. I hope that someday when you are grown up that you will still keep this wonder, this peace, this strength that I see in you right now. If you can, then going out into the world will be a magical amazing thing... and I'll know that I did ok.
You've been looking farther and deeper ever since. When I wrote this, I didn't know who God was, let alone the magnitude of the gift he'd given me. What a privilege it's been to get to know you, and to discover His goodness together.
I love you baby girl.... Happy First Day of Adulthood!
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