My daughter Kara turned 15 today. Crazy … I know, I have a boy that’s two years older. But there’s something between a daughter and her mom that I simply can’t explain. And it causes me to reflect and consider …
Kara and her big brother, Wes
When I found out I was pregnant with my second baby, we were in the middle of a possible transition. We were on a job interview in Phoenix, Arizona. When we got home to Indianapolis, I started feeling a little weird. It wasn’t the same way I felt the first time. But our lives were chaotic … Bruce had found out he was being fired (or “asked to resign,” for those of you still living in the religious fantasy life where church leaders are nice people). We knew we were pregnant, but the place we were was more concerned that Bruce didn’t have a seminary degree, and their good church kids “deserved” someone with a degree (that’s a direct quote …). But I digress. All I knew is that I was welcoming another little one into the world.
Excited? Sure. But apprehensive. I mean, I was looking at thirty, and this was only my second baby. Top that off with a major move, going from a large house to an 850 square foot apartment, my husband going into a very demanding job … I really didn’t have a lot to think about the pregnancy. Plus, there was that toddler running hither and yon …
I was deathly afraid to have a girl. We didn’t find out … Bruce was big on the surprise. But I remember laying in my bed, exhausted, while Wesley took a rare nap, and just crying, fearful that God would give me a daughter, and I would let her get hurt how I had been hurt as a little girl, and I would fail her, and I had a lack-luster relationship with my own mom, and I was a failure as a woman … you get the picture, and know what I mean if you’ve ever been hormonal during pregnancy.
To top it all off, Wesley had contracted the chicken pox! I remember my next-to-last doctor’s appointment, and she had said, “Listen, unless he’s scabbed over, he must go somewhere else. The baby can’t contract these …” Imagine, sending away a little two year old who knew he was the middle of our universe, and bringing him back with a new little invader … anyway, thankfully, he got better on time. But still …
About 3:00 am, on November 11, 1993, a huge thunderstorm blew through Ann Arbor, Michigan. Weird, right? No snow — just lots of rain and thunder. I woke up, a little uncomfortable. Not in labor; just achy. After about an hour, I thought, “Hmmm … maybe I’ll shower just in case. It will relax me …” and it did, but I still couldn’t get to sleep.
About 5:00 am, I woke Bruce up and said, “I think I’m in labor.” He said, “What do you mean, you ‘think’ you’re in labor?” It was totally different than labor with Wesley, I told him.
So we called my friend, Andi, to come and sit with Wesley. We called my folks (who were coming down that same day, so Andi could go to work), and headed out to St. Joseph Hospital. By the time we got there (only about a 10 minute ride), I was definitely sure I was in labor. Bruce dropped me off at the door, a nurse met me with a wheel chair. I went immediately to an examination room.
The nurse casually put me on the table, downplaying my excitement because I knew I was close. She checked me out, yelled, “She’s at 10! I need a delivery room NOW!” I puked, my water broke, and they whisked me down the hallway. We had gotten there so fast that my doctor couldn’t be reached. She wasn’t even on duty — I was going to have to deliver with one of her associates. While we were waiting, my usually quiet husband began to panic. “Can anybody here deliver a baby???” Bruce asked. The attending resident reassured him he could do it, if necessary.
At that point, Bruce just about passed out. He had to sit, and asked for ice chips (who was in labor here???) because he’d wore a sweatshirt, and was too hot. I knew the baby was on the way before the doctor arrived. When he did, he took his coat off, washed his hands, gave me a look and said, “Well, let’s have this baby.” I entered the emergency room at 6:00 am. Kara came into the world at 6:28 am.
When it was all over, I was ready to go home — seriously. Even the doctor said, “You don’t even look like you just had a baby.” I told him, OK, let us go. But Kara was struggling. Her glucose levels weren’t leveling out. They were dipping … and he told me if they went below 35, there could be brain damage. Brain damage? My daughter … we prayed, and cried, and prayed some more. I wasn’t going anywhere without her, so I spent the night, sleeping little but visiting her constantly. The wouldn’t let me nurse her. They wouldn’t let her stay with me.
But the next day, she was OK. We got ready to go home, to a waiting grandpa, grandma, and Wesley. Kara had her days and night mixed up, which was hell on us — on me. It was then that my dad informed me I had to suck it up and deal with the baby and Wesley, because Bruce had to go to work, and had to be in top shape for that. Wow, great thing to tell an exhausted, sick (I’d caught a cold in the hospital), nursing mother of two little kids. She also had some digestive problems. She and I were at the doctor every single day for ten days …
She was a beautiful baby, though. She had more hair at birth than Wesley did his first year of life. She had this brilliant, flashing eyes. And, she had the most perfect little angel mouth I’d ever seen on a baby. Even through my exhaustion, I was in love. All the apprehension I had before her birth slipped away in the months that followed. She was such a good baby — easy. She actually slept (something her brother took a long time to do). She was a snuggler. She easily adapted to the snuggle sack (an African-like baby carrier that gave me the freedom to be active, while keeping Kara close), and basically lived in it until she could
Where has time gone?
walk.
She was funny. We talk about her first words being, “Taco Bell!” She was an early walker (like the other kids), and very precocious. She was funny, because she would follow Wesley around and learn to do things. But then, when you’d say, “Kara, show grandma what you can do.” She’d look at me like I was an idiot (I should have gotten use to that, for when she became a teenager …). Then, we’d get home, and she’d do whatever I’d asked her to before!
Kara use to be a pretty outgoing kid. She was in numerous dramas, and loved to dress up and perform in front of the family (when it was her idea; not mine). She was always a bit quiet — she preferred her friends to be out front first. But she’s always been friendly. She’s become a lot more reserved as she’s gotten older. I blame it on all the transitions that have become “normal” in our lives. But ask she’s gotten on in her teenager years, she seems to be coming out of her shell more again.
Kara is amazing in my eyes. She is intelligent (but she’ll never let you know it). She has such a huge heart … for people, for the earth, for her family. She is a servant … my daughter is someone who will, for no reason, clean my kitchen, or make cookies with her little sister. She’s funny … her sense of humor is so dry — and quick. She often keeps her comments to herself, but when she does speak up … watch out.
She recently started driving on her permit. It’s fun, because she’s so cautious. It’s like, when she was a little girl, and she saw Wesley do something. She’d really, really want to try, but was a little hesitant. But eventually, when she couldn’t take it any more, she’d throw herself into it all the way — and she’d do great. Kara has never let fear keep her from something. For that, I am so proud of her.
She’s also very strong in her convictions. She’s not one to push her will on anyone, but she stands firm in what she believes. She listens, but will not easily be pushed from thing to thing. She tries a lot of things; but at her core, she is strong, determined, and consistent. Again, I admire her so much for that.
So happy birthday, beautiful girl. I’m so proud of your first 15 years, and can’t wait for the next sixty or so I share with you. (OK, optimistically, on my end of things). Keep being who you are, Kara, and never fear what is to come. The only limit to what you can do or achieve are the limits you put on yourself. I am so, so thankful you are a part of my life. Love you!
