Finally, the Post About Graduation

There was never any doubt that we’d get here but it feels like it happened in the blink of an eye.

I so clearly remember riding in a car driven by Tom down a side street in Huntington, Indiana. I was about halfway through my pregnancy with Alyssa. I was just starting to show and you could finally see her moving.

I’d had a miscarriage before I got pregnant with Alyssa. As we drove down that street, my breath hitched when I realized that it could still happen again. Tom gave me an odd look and asked what was wrong. I asked him, “What if I lose this baby too?”

He tried to console me by saying if that happened, we’d try again.

I shook my head, “But I want this baby. I don’t want any other baby, just this one.”

That baby graduated from high school last week. The baby I cried for and wanted so desperately before she was even born is eighteen years old and heading off to college in the fall.

There were some REALLY long days interspersed through these past eighteen years but those years? They flew.

I am so proud of who she is. I’m so proud of how hard she works and how much she cares and how kind she is. She’s so smart and confident and funny. I am so lucky to be a part of her life, so have brought her into this world and to be able to watch her do amazing things.

She was the baby I wanted even though I didn’t even know her as I cried over the thought of losing her. She is magical and mystical and she surprises me all the time as she continues to find herself. I hope the confidence she’s cultivated through her high school years continues and grows during her years in college. I hope she makes more amazing friends and continues to hone her strengths and talents.

But most of all, I hope she’s happy. I hope she finds her people and her way and does the things that make her the happiest.

Fly high, sweet girl. Be the best you you can be.

18

I am now the parent of an adult. She’s officially all grown up, at least in the eyes of the law.

What does that mean, really?

Does it even mean anything?

I know that Alyssa doesn’t feel like it means anything. She’s still chomping at the bit for some freedom.

Alas, in the age of Covid, freedom doesn’t come easily for any of us.

I know she feels stifled by me and her dad. I know this and yet I can’t fix it for her.

She wants to make her own decisions and learn from her mistakes.

I get that. I really, really do. Which is why I don’t go check on her at 2am if I happen to be up to see why she’s still awake on a school night. She’s a big girl now (just ask her) and can handle being a little tired the next day if that’s the natural consequence of her not going to sleep earlier.

Eighteen year old Alyssa is a delight to be honest. She’s smart, she’s loyal. She works hard and wishes she had the freedom to play hard. She’s funny and kind. She can be snarky and fiercely defends me against her sister.

She loves with her whole heart and has so many talents. She can sing, play the flute and piccolo. She runs and does well in the high jump. She acts and draws and paints.

She finds humor in most things, can have a good cry and then turn the day around. Her friends vie for her time and attention because she gives all she’s got when she’s with you.

I am so grateful to have the honor of being her mother and watching her grow up into the beautiful young woman she’s becoming.

I want to be like her when I grow up.