Don’t worry. After yesterday’s post, you don’t have to fear that I’m going to tell you Ann’s birth story. Nobody needs to hear all of that! Ooky. It was horrible and I’d rather not rehash it.
We kind of grew up together. When I went through my divorce, she moved out of the house with me and we got a little apartment together. We found ourselves in a world where we had to figure out where the boundary was between mother and daughter versus two friends hanging out together. We had been close for awhile. Not for her whole life. She was a daddy’s girl through and through as a young elementary school kid. She began hanging out more and more with me as she hit those pre-teen years. We did everything together, and yet it was strange to be on our own. We had to forge our path separately, but together. And we made it. I can’t say that I never had any doubts that we would, but we made it.
She grew up, left home, and I watched her from a distance as she made the transition from teenager to adult. It was not an easy time for her. There were so many highs. Lows. Mediums. Learning to offer support to her when she was struggling without crossing the line of overbearing momma was a difficult tightrope for me to walk. I always wanted to swoop in and save her from any and all pain. She overcame everything! Heartache. Loneliness. Financial stress. So much for a young woman to handle. But she did. She’s one of the strongest women that I know. She inspires me to be better.
Here we are on the other side of so many challenges. I see this beautiful, intelligent, caring, happy, well adjusted woman. I can hardly believe that she is a part of me. That somehow, somewhere, something I did may have contributed to that. She is beautiful and I’m the luckiest mom in the world.