January 24, 1992. A day we'll never forget (not a day that will live in infamy, just a day we'll never forget).
The day started easy enough, with Jason off to UNLV for classes and Yvonne, then seven-and-a-half months pregnant, trying to catch a few more z's before heading to work. Our baby (Mariah if a girl, Tyson if a boy) was due March 3. Life was good.
Jason got home from school just after 2 p.m. to find a note from Yvonne (this is before cell phones, people -- only salespeople and crack dealers had beepers, and Jason was neither): Yvonne's had some serious back pain, so she was heading to the doctor. Yawn.
Shortly after that he got a phone call: Yvonne was at the hospital, in labor. GET HERE NOW!
Jason made it in time. Melissa (let's face it, Mariah just didn't fit her) was born at 4:42 p.m. Six weeks early, five pounds and one-half ounce. We were young, scared about becoming parents and our little girl's health, but excited about the prospect of raising her as ours.
Fast forward 18 years.
As her parents, we're still young (in geologic terms), still scared at times by the choices she faces now and in the years ahead, but excited about the bright girl that she is and the bright future she faces.
While we've had our share of disagreements and frustrations and fights and challenges over the years (that's the parent-child dynamic, right? right?), we've also had more than our share of great memories watching Melissa grow up as a daughter, sister, and young woman.
And while we, as parents, have enjoyed raising her (or doing our best, anyway), it's her relationship with her four brothers that really stands out in our family. They're not her brothers, they're her boys.
We've enjoyed time spent together at backyards and beaches, ballparks and city parks, chapels and mountains, vacations and dinner tables, and many, many other stops throughout our lives together. Great, great memories that have caused the tough times to fade.
Now at 18, there's no denying that her life and ours are about to chart different courses. College applications are in the mail. High school graduation is four months away. Big decisions lurk ahead for her -- exciting, frightening times. Just like 18 years ago, we're a little scared, but she's not a little girl any more. She'll be fine.
Happy birthday, kid.
The day started easy enough, with Jason off to UNLV for classes and Yvonne, then seven-and-a-half months pregnant, trying to catch a few more z's before heading to work. Our baby (Mariah if a girl, Tyson if a boy) was due March 3. Life was good.
Jason got home from school just after 2 p.m. to find a note from Yvonne (this is before cell phones, people -- only salespeople and crack dealers had beepers, and Jason was neither): Yvonne's had some serious back pain, so she was heading to the doctor. Yawn.
Shortly after that he got a phone call: Yvonne was at the hospital, in labor. GET HERE NOW!
Jason made it in time. Melissa (let's face it, Mariah just didn't fit her) was born at 4:42 p.m. Six weeks early, five pounds and one-half ounce. We were young, scared about becoming parents and our little girl's health, but excited about the prospect of raising her as ours.
Fast forward 18 years.
As her parents, we're still young (in geologic terms), still scared at times by the choices she faces now and in the years ahead, but excited about the bright girl that she is and the bright future she faces.
While we've had our share of disagreements and frustrations and fights and challenges over the years (that's the parent-child dynamic, right? right?), we've also had more than our share of great memories watching Melissa grow up as a daughter, sister, and young woman.
And while we, as parents, have enjoyed raising her (or doing our best, anyway), it's her relationship with her four brothers that really stands out in our family. They're not her brothers, they're her boys.
We've enjoyed time spent together at backyards and beaches, ballparks and city parks, chapels and mountains, vacations and dinner tables, and many, many other stops throughout our lives together. Great, great memories that have caused the tough times to fade.
Now at 18, there's no denying that her life and ours are about to chart different courses. College applications are in the mail. High school graduation is four months away. Big decisions lurk ahead for her -- exciting, frightening times. Just like 18 years ago, we're a little scared, but she's not a little girl any more. She'll be fine.
Happy birthday, kid.
3 comments:
A Melissa memory to celebrate the big day! Remember when the concrete had just been poured in your driveway and Melissa took off crawling through it. Ahhh... soo funny! I saw a few pictures of the little Melissa I used to babysit. Happy Birthday girly!
That's a great post!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEL!!!!
Happy Happy Birthday Melissa! John and I were just saying you were Alex's age when we met you. Not quite 12 years old and so dang cute! Now you're 18 and still so dang cute! We're proud of you.
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