There’s a (beautiful, amazing, & brilliant) teenager in my house!

Happy 13th Birthday, Emma Joy!

From My Pictures

Though we’ve been anticipating this day for a long time – you, especially – but it’s still hard for me to believe that my first-born is now a teenager. I see you. I hear you. I experience you. And yes, you’re definitely a teenager. But when I scan my memory, full to the brim with images of you and their accompanying emotions, time flies and I can hardly believe that it was 13 years ago today, at 9:29 a.m. that I FINALLY held you in my arms.

You now seek to hold me, to hug me, to have your arms around me, to give me a kiss, to make sure I know that you love me.  You  are incredibly, endlessly warm. In fact sometimes it surprises me. For seemingly no reason at all, you find me, open your arms wide, and then wrap me in them. Your willingness and desire to be close to people – not just me, but your many friends, your family – is stunning. Yes, you are warm, inviting, kind, and amazing.

You now teach me – whether math, science, or sometimes (though not often) even computer technology. You are incredibly smart. It’s not just the highly capable classes, the French, your mastery of the English language. It’s more. It’s your intuition, humor, dialogue, awareness, and sensitivity. All of these things show me your brilliance. Yes, you are wicked smart.

From My Pictures

You now decide what you will wear. I remember the days when I’d put you in two or three outfits a day just because you had them and I could. I knew you would grow out of them too fast and it gave me yet another excuse to take more pictures of you. Lots of pink. Lots of ruffles. Lots of bling. And now? None of that. You are bold, determined, certain. Jeans. A cami, two or three layered T-shirts, a sweatshirt. Converse. And the makeup: black eye-liner, black mascara, a little lip gloss. This isn’t a battle I’m going to fight. And, truth-be-told, I love that you are adamant about your “look.” I love that you are confident and not afraid to wear things that I think are verging on crazy. Yes, you are bold, determined, and especially certain about it.

You now help me heal. I had prepared myself that you, my first born, would follow in my footsteps. I was committed to do everything I could to keep you from the same pain, struggle, and sadness. But you are nothing like me. Where I was insecure, you are confident. Where I struggled with self-esteem, you are assertive and bold. Where I was determined to be what anyone else wanted me to be, you stand your ground, speak your truth, and remain true to yourself. Where I felt gangly and un-seen by boys, you are their friends. And as I watch you become this amazing young woman, right before my eyes, it causes me to wonder about my own experiences, my own self-perceptions. What if I had understood myself as you do? And what if, even now, I begin to re-imagine my 13-year-old-self; inviting her to value her uniqueness, her intelligence, her humor, her beauty? You do all of these things, Emma. Yes, you are healing me.

You now offer me hope. I watch you balk at billboards, TV commercials, or magazine ads that use women to sell products. I see your irritation at the constant parade of skinny girls as the glamorized idea of what’s beautiful. I see you tell the truth, even when it’s risky. I see you cry openly when you are disappointed or hurt. And I hear your heart – expressed in words, insights, fears, hopes, and beliefs. Yes, you offer me much hope – for your future, my own, and for the world in which you will make an amazing impact.

And, consistent with your name, now and always, you bring JOY. Your smile sparkles. Your eyes crinkle. Your laughter permeates. Your conversation (sans sarcasm – at which you are highly proficient) uplifts. Your heart holds and hopes and embodies unbridled, untamed, unquenchable joy.

It has been a daily privilege to be your mom, to scoop you up and dust you off, to curl your hair, to read you books, to hear you laugh, to pick your outfits, to watch you grow…. Now, more often, I pick up after you and watch you go. In all the days between infancy and now 7th grade I have loved you – more than life itself. More days are yet to come. More change is yet to occur. More challenge. More individuation. More rolled eyes. And more joy, more love, more you.

You’re 13. It sounds cliche, but it feels like yesterday that you were placed into my arms, wrapped tight in blankets and wearing a hat with black and orange string for Halloween. 9 pounds, 14 ounces, and full of warmth, intelligence, boldness, certainty, healing, hope, and joy. You have been deeply wanted and deeply loved from the shocking, long-awaited news of conception. That has not changed. That will not change. Never swaying, you continue to bring me more joy than I deserve, more than my heart can often hold.

I love you, Emma Joy. Happy Birthday.

Please send Emma birthday greetings – whether you know her or not! I’d love for her to be inundated with well-wishes, hopes, blessings, and the gift of your thoughts on her behalf this important, important day. Thanks!

Tagged as: birthday, joy, teenager