There's a full moon tonight, I found an amazing through-the-woods-wilderness-path to Walmart and it's my first child's birthday. The numbers associated with my birthday sometimes give me pause ~ but it's the number of years my children have been on earth that always makes me spend those days bound up in nostalgia: sliding between chuckling and bouts of tears. It's also Wednesday. Candice Michele Barley was born on a Wednesday.
I thought I was ready for her to get here, but it wasn't until she arrived 34 years ago that I had the least idea what I'd gotten myself into. I wasn't the same 22-year-old girl anymore. My life was changed. I was better than I had been just a the day before. I am light-skinned, green-eyed and blonde. Candice was asleep when the doctors lifted her from my flayed belly. It was easy for her and as she opened her eyes and woke up (I was panicked because I'd thought a just born baby was supposed to cry but she just squeaked a little) and everybody in the room (including 30 student nurses) ahhhhed. Somebody told me I had a daughter. In 1977, in South Carolina, they wouldn't tell you the sex of your baby. It was a big secret. I laugh about that now. And the father was not allowed in if you were having a caesarian.
I had wanted a girl, more than I should have. I had willed it to be a girl. With dark hair and dark skin who would never have to hide under an umbrella at the beach. Candice was and is an olive-skinned, dark-haired beauty. I had fallen in love with her father mostly because he was tall, dark and handsome. And because he made me laugh and feel like lightening bolts were shooting out the bottom of my feet (hee hee Candice). And as I think back now, who's to second guess the mystery and hormones that push us out of the driver's seat sometimes and start steering the bus for us while we sit dumbfounded in the back of the bus. I wouldn't have changed a thing - at least for another 5 years or so until I had my son. It was all worth it to have them be exactly who they are and to have a good dose of Native American melanin to override the straight-up European white girl genes.
Today, I am so far away from her. So I baked her a cake anyway. Well not really a cake, because Candice isn't crazy about cakes ~ she loves beautiful berry tarts. And I found one just the other day on Shutterbean.com. The perfect tart for my perfect memories. I made sure not to cry into the bowl of berries!
As I made the dough, I remembered her face at two when she saw the cake with Barbie crammed down into the pink frosting. She squealed. My heart melted.
Candice has brought so much sunshine into my life (in fact that's what I wanted to name her and she cringes every time I remind her). We are so very different. But, at the same time, it's as if we share the same brain sometimes.
She's an actress. She's gorgeous. She's smart and witty. She has three boys whom I love with every fiber. She has a husband (who has the same birthday) who amazes me. She's strong. She's resourceful. She can make me laugh with just a look. She's as much a wonder to me as she has been since the first instant I saw her 34 years ago.
I wish I could hold her in my lap just one more time and put my cheek next to her little, soft brown curls. I still remember the smell of her as a baby. That's the thing you don't realize when you become a mother. You don't get to keep them. Sure, you know that. But somehow you still don't believe it when they're small. No picture can bring them back. No video can freeze them in time. Just once more I'd like lay beside her as she fights sleep and pat her back and sing to her. Just once more watch her kick her feet wildly as she lays back in the bathtub and bats her eyes when the water she kicks splashes on her face.
Just once more hear her look at the clothes I pulled out of her drawer and exclaim (at 3) "mommy, dohs dun match!"
So here's your birthday cake Dissa, Biscuit Buns, Sweetheart! You've brought me more joy than it's possible for me to explain and made June 15th one of the best days of my live. I love you. I'll make this for you in person when I see you in July. I'm so glad I got to be your mommy!
Found your blog, from your comment on Shutterbean.
And now. . .I'm crying. It's a good cry though. You wrote so beautifully, and it made me think of my 4 babies, and how fast they're growing. ooooh. I wish I had a piece of that tart to ease my pain.
Glad I found you. I'll be back.
Posted by: Nickiwooguru | 06/16/2011 at 03:04 PM
Who knew this reply would be so hidden? I just wanted to let you know I figured it out and you've been THE ONE who has allowed me to understand that there's an audience out there...Thx Nicki!
Posted by: Christi Saxon Koelker | 06/19/2011 at 11:26 AM