Exactly 21 Julys ago, I remember waddling out to the backyard to watch fireworks.
Because of the earth’s mounting vibrations, the slugs in the ground escaped and were lying all over the concrete, so my steps had to be balanced and mindful. Their world was vibrating while we were blasting booming displays to celebrate our country.
My world, however, was on the verge of combustion in more ways than one. July is always exciting, but on that Independence Day, all I remember was giddy expectation mixed with immense trepidation, coupled with feeling hot, sticky, and exhausted. Just a few days later, our first daughter Amanda arrived.
As a young mom, there were so many judgments passed along. Would we know how to raise a child when we were so young ourselves? Did we have any place having a child at this age (which was barely 20)? I only wish I could have pointed out other strong and young moms who raised incredibly strong and smart people (President Obama’s mother was 18 when he was born) back then, when I was a naïve, young mom. While the naysayers were irritating, my concerns were more immediate: was Amanda eating enough? Sleeping enough? Was she comfortable? Was she safe? Largely because I was so immersed in her day-to-day care and partly because of my determination (AKA stubbornness), I chose to ignore the negativity. I knew that I would forever do anything I had to do to make her life the best possible.
I finished college and leaped into my publishing career all the while learning the ins and out of parenting 101. Surely, it would have been easier, if my husband and I had been more settled with a few extra years under our belts, but I firmly believe that when it comes to babies, god gives us exactly who we are supposed to be with in this life, and when.
As Amanda grew, I watched her quickly go from baby to toddler to big kid, in the blink of an eye. There are countless memories: school, friends, dances, graduations, and the prom. With each milestone, I reveled not only in witnessing this little amazing person blossom right in front of me, but also shared in her joys and heartaches. People say that, as a mom, your job is to teach your child to be able to thrive in their world, and to that extent, my job is done. She turns 21 this month. She is a senior in college, and holds a part-time administrative assistant job, as well as an internship at a non-profit women’s organization, among a host of other accomplishments. She is a leader, but also a caring, kind, and fun-loving young woman.
Twenty-one supposed to be the magical age where you, as a parent, are finished, but we all know you never really are. While “Independence Day” has finally been reached for her, this year holds special meaning. Amanda is just starting out, and as a young person, many expectations will be placed on her. She will go off on her own, leaving that little girl in the pink Barney t-shirt behind her. And yet, I will still sometimes wonder — is she sleeping enough, working too much, is she safe? Except now I have to remain steadfast in the belief that what I have done the past 21 years has been enough. And while I can’t quite wrap my mind around how incredibly (almost obscenely) fast it has soared by, I know that it has. Now it is her time to fly.
Danielle Sullivan, a mom of three, has worked as a writer and editor in the parenting world for more than 10 years. Sullivan also writes about pets and parenting for Disney’s Babble.com. Find her on Facebook and Twitter @DanniSullWriter, or on her blog, Some Puppy To Love.
