Ten years and four days ago, I graduated from college with a degree in Family Science (also known as Marriage, Family, and Human Development). I'd been married two years and I was expecting our first child, a girl we'd call Lillian, the next day.
I was nervous about the experience. I'd never given birth before, and I'd never really loved babies. I'd always loved to babysit toddlers and older children, but I found babies boring. I worried I'd feel the same way about my own.
Ten years and three days ago, my second anniversary, which was also my due date, passed with no baby in sight.
Ten years ago, I gave birth at 11:53 p.m., seven minutes before our student insurance ran out. The peace and joy of the experience changed me forever.
Lillian has always been my joy and my light. I loved her more than I knew it was possible to love someone. When I greeted her, I felt as though I was meeting my best friend after a long absence.
I loved being a mother. A few days after I got home from the hospital, I took out my school backpack, put away my tests, my notebooks, textbooks, and snack wrappers left over from trying to keep one step ahead of the morningsickness while also going to school and working two jobs (teaching special education seminary and being a T.A. for Family Money Management). Then I filled the backpack with diapers, wipes, desitin, and the like.
I'd traded one chapter of my life for the next.
I've never regretted it.