Coming and Going

19 years ago, I was hugely pregnant in the midst of one of the hottest summers on record in St. Louis. That summer, I barely left the comfort of my house. My husband did a lot of the errand-running for me that summer while I spent a lot of time cooling my big pregnant body in a blow up kiddy pool in our backyard.

19 years ago, my sweet girl Lauren was coming. A baby girl after two boys.

19 years ago, after two boys, her room was fully stocked with all things pink and frilly. A few dresses in her closet. The bottom half of the walls in her room were sponge painted in mint green, yellow and pink, the top was a cheery, lemony yellow, and a pretty watercolory wallpaper border wrapped around the room dividing the two. White eyelet curtains with pink gingham ribbon trim framed the windows. A white bookshelf between the windows held books, a squishy pink doll that was stitched with “My First Doll,” pastel stuffed animals and whatever other girlie trinket I could find. A bundle of pastel satin balloons hung on the wall above the crib that was waiting for her. A white dresser held more little ruffled socks than any baby would ever need, and a music box on top of that dresser played “You are my Sunshine.” She already owned her first pair of shoes—tiny black patent leather Mary Jane’s that I imagined her wearing on her first Christmas.

19 years ago, I was sewing my first ever (and only ever!) quilt, one that had rows of eyelet woven with pink ribbon and edged with a yellow satin ruffle.  At night after Brandon and Justin were tucked in their beds, I would go into Lauren’s room, rock in the rocking chair with my hands on my belly and talk to her. I talked to her about all of the hopes and dreams I had for her.  I envisioned dance recitals and gymnastics classes. I thought of myself as a little girl and all of the things I had wished I could do, and I promised her that not only would she always be cherished and loved, but that I would do whatever I could to make all of her dreams come true. That summer, Elton John, who is one of my all-time favorite singers, released a song called Blessed, and every time I heard it, I thought of the baby girl I was carrying:

Hey you, you're a child in my head
You haven't walked yet
Your first words have yet to be said
But I swear you'll be blessed

I know you're still just a dream
your eyes might be green
Or the bluest that I've ever seen
Anyway you'll be blessed

And you, you'll be blessed
You'll have the best
I promise you that
I'll pick a star from the sky
Pull your name from a hat
I promise you that, promise you that, promise you that

To this day, when I hear that song, I tear up and remember the summer that I was expecting Lauren.

19 years ago, my bags were already packed and waiting by the front door since I had preterm labor with Justin at 29 weeks, and I was worried it would happen again. One of those bags, I cute mint green and white diaper bag, held her coming home outfit--a sweet little pink and white onsie with eyelet and pink ribbon trim. Yeah, I liked eyelet.

19 years ago, though her birth was still a month away, I was ready.

19 years ago, I was waiting for Lauren to come.

Now, a day away, Lauren is going.

It’s not been a summer anything at all like the one I spent waiting for her arrival. It’s definitely not hot like that summer 19 years ago when I would sometimes go into the grocery store and leave my car running so that it would stay cool while I was gone. In fact, it’s been a rather cool and rainy, not at all a normal St. Louis summer. And I haven’t been as excited for her going as I was for her coming. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for her. I love her school. I think she is going to thrive there. But waiting for her to go has been different than waiting for her to come.

I digress.

Lauren’s room is still fully stocked. Very fully stocked. Shelves of trophies have replaced the shelves of stuffed animals and dolls and books.  Her walls, that are now blue rather than pink and mint green and yellow, are almost completely covered with posters of Cardinals baseball players, photos of her friends and her artwork.

No more music boxes for this girl. But her room does have a drum set.

The drawers of frilly socks have been replaced with black Adidas basketball socks, lots of them, that cost $12 a pair. A PAIR!! No Mary Janes have graced her feet since she was four. No ballet shoes have graced her feet since she was four either.

But, she does have shiny black Nike basketball high tops. More than one pair.

She’s never done a back flip on a mat in a gym, but she has been elbowed in the nose, knocked around, gotten floor burns on her legs and worse burns on her ego.

Her closet no longer holds frilly pink things like it did 19 years ago. Instead, it contains a myriad of shirts with team logos and hoods and athletic symbols. There hasn’t been a dress in her closet for many years.

Her room, her life, is stocked with things and dreams I never imagined 19 years ago when I cradled her in my belly while I rocked her and talked to her about all of the dreams I wished to come true for her.

Her life is now stocked with the things that are HER hopes and dreams, not mine.

Our living room is stocked now, too. It is stocked with the things that she has loved and the things that will accompany her going.

No more frilly quilts edged with satin and eyelet. Instead, a thick warm lime green and turquoise comforter that is so soft, I want to wrap myself up in it.

As she brought the very last thing that is going to college with her downstairs this afternoon and plunked it on the living room floor, it reminded me of a cute little diaper bag that once sat in almost the same exact spot, ready for her to come into the world. Now, it’s a very large Vera Bradley duffel bag that she received as a graduation gift.

She is going.

The pile of stuff in my living room proves that she is. Just as a mint green and pink and yellow room brimming with stuff proved she was coming 19 years ago.

I started writing this post very late last night. I put it aside because it seemed too scrambled and unorganized. This afternoon, Lauren brought me a folder with all of the letters she has gotten from her college over the past months, and I found it very ironic that their motto is “Dream Up.” I knew that, but didn’t give it much thought until today, with thoughts of this post I started writing last night very fresh in my mind. Some of the things she has received from them say things like, “Dream Big!,” and, “Follow your Dreams!” And always, “Dream Up!”

She is doing all of those things, right along with me. I can’t help but think now of the dreams I had for her 19 years ago when I dreamed of a happy, confident girl who would find her way much easier than I did. Dreams of a girl who knew she could do whatever she wanted. Those dreams of mine, perhaps the most important dreams of all, have come true, even if they came true in ways I never imagined 19 years ago.

I still have the same dreams for her that I had 19 years ago when I was waiting for her to arrive. I still promise her she will always be cherished and loved.

Unlike 19 years ago when the words to that Elton John song resonated so much with my heart, she has taken her first steps. She has said her first words. She’s no longer just a dream. Yet the lyrics of that song still resonate with my heart. She is getting ready to take her first new steps. She is getting ready to find a new voice. Whatever her life is to be is now her dream. And that is just how it should be.

My only dream now is that she is happy and makes her dreams come true.

And I pray that she’ll always be blessed.