Full Contact Parenting

March is smack dab in the middle of the birthdays of my two bookend children. The last Thursday of January my youngest turned 11…the last Thursday of May my eldest will turn 17. And three months after that my middle one turns 15. How did this happen? Where has the time gone? Some days I could not tell you, even if I tried.

I do remember vividly the day each of my daughters were born. That is etched in my mind and on my heart. Each one was amazing and special, never surpassed by any other. How can that be? I don’t know, but each of my girls is as unique and different as any flower that grows in my garden, yet they are very similar.

Every birthday, I am asked, “Tell me about the day I was born.”…and so I pause, smile, and remember something both beautiful and heart-breakingly sad. This happens whenever I revisit the day each of the girls came into my life, for my life was different then and it has since taken a turn quite unexpected.

I recall for each one the story of her birth, the joy and anticipation her father and I shared as we waited and prepared for her coming. Once we waited well past the due date and another time we were shocked by a three weeks pre-term delivery. The last time the birth came only a week early, but even that has its own unique twist. Each story is filled with love and a desire to fulfill our dream of a family.

I love this little tradition they have led me to continue…sharing the story with each one, letting her know she was planned, wanted and hoped for eagerly. I think that is important when a child grows up in a divided home. They often wonder why they were even born, if their parents cannot love each other forever.

My first marriage was indeed a tragic failure, but from that tragedy came three lovely and wonderful children, and that has made it all worth while…because of my girls I know I would go through it all again, knowing everything I know now. No way it could have been a mistake, not with the likes of those three.