Turning Seventeen

     Seventeen, almost, but not quite considered an adult.   So close to what teens view as "freedom".

     Those of us much older, can recall that same feeling and laugh at what that "freedom" really means.

     Sure we were free of parental rules, we could come and go as we pleased, we could eat anything we wanted at any time of day.  If any of you were like me, my parents voices were floating around in the back of my mind with every decision I made.

     I was pretty independent.  I understood money and priorities, but I couldn't fully comprehend what that "freedom" entailed until living in it.

 

   Looking at my first born who turned seventeen today, my heart aches and swells with pride all at the same time.  I've always been a middle of the road parent when it comes to rules.  Strict enough, but not so overbearing that she is afraid to ask questions.  Trusting, but not so lax or naive to underestimate the teenage mind.

     She desires this freedom and is only a little over a year from encompassing it.  

     Seventeen years ago seems like an eternity, yet I can remember the day of her birth so vividly.  My doctor immediately taking her to the warming table instead of allowing me to hold her.  Me, gazing in disbelief at a chalk white baby girl with a mop of black hair, surrounded by medical staff softly but urgently coaxing her, "Breathe, baby breathe".  

     Her cord had been wrapped around her neck and was suffocating her as she was being brought into this world.  Finally her cry was heard and the nurse literally held her up like she was on the "Price Is Right" and whisked her away to the NICU.

     I only had to wait two hours until she was stable enough that I could feel her in my arms.  It was two hours of confusion and praying my baby girl was going to be okay. 

     My epidural only numbed the right side of my body which granted me a second epidural that paralyzed me from the waist down for hours.  I wasn't allowed to move until it had worn off so I couldn't even gaze through the window from the hallway at my little baby.
 
     But when the nurse brought her to me it was the first time I knew what true love felt like.  My intuition told me I was having a girl and she would be named either Abigail or Olivia, but I was waiting until I could see her in person to decide. 

    
 When I viewed her dark and unbelievably thick hair, I knew that no matter her age, that this would forever be my Livvy.

   

Happy 17th Birthday to my beautiful 

Olivia Rose !<3

 

We are Free at the Moment We Wish to Be

     This was a day when I thought  I was going to be released from my last surgery after my car crash. 

Tuesday was the day.  The early morning sun hit my face as it shone through the windshield of my car forcing me to slip my sunglasses on.  A welcome action since this winter doesn't want to end.  

     Loving the excitement that was working it's way through my anatomy, bursting into a cheeky grin as I eagerly passed each small town heading to my surgeon's office.   All should go well this day  and I should be able to remove my air boot and slip on the custom brace made for my left ankle.  The elation emanating from me is creating my body to sit straight up in my seat, you wouldn't think I was at all relaxed.  I flash each driver that  passes me a
   sign and then add a wink on top of it, effectively insinuating that I am a complete halfwit. When in truth, I am so full of positive energy that I am like a soda that has been shaken up and if you pop the top, I am likely to explode and spew happiness all over you.

    Swinging the metal door open to the clinic foyer, I face the elevators and give the button an unceremoniously tap.  Looking to my right, I throw one of those too large, toothy grins to the woman who will accompany me on the ride up one floor.  Smiling is contagious.  I was like the baby you saw in the grocery cart that would melt the hardest of hearts, I wore my smile so large that no one dared frown at me.  They were probably afraid I would vomit a rainbow on them.

     X-rays were taken, my surgeon is as passionate about this day of mine as I am and my new brace is slipped around my left ankle.  "See you in eight weeks!"  she says.  Thumbs up, wink.  ;)

     Walking proudly, confidently out of the waiting room, holding my large, gray, farm dirty air cast boot in front of me, to be envied by those still wearing theirs, I finally feel freedom.  This time when I leave the orthopedics office, it's different.  This time, there are no more surgeries hanging over my head.  This time, there are no more needles waiting to puncture my veins.  This time, there are no more pill bottles waiting to steal my memories.  This time, it's me and my tenacity.  By God, I am winning.

     I stand poised on the concrete curb, allowing the warmth of the suns rays to embellish my pale face for a little longer than necessary, then walk to my car as I feel the pair of braces confining my ankles.  I sit and crack the windows so I may enjoy the Spring breeze and raise both my arms, with my fists at my ears and scream, " Waaaa Hooooo!!!!"  I am in control, my recovery is not controlling me anymore.

     As I turn to the Sirius radio, there is only one station that will match my dynamic mood.  It's a 'HairNation' kind of day!






   

  I am free friends, I am free.

*Find those moments of success and accomplishment and hold on to them.  Use them and enjoy them.*