Friday evening I got a text message from an old friend. Our history goes back to the date of her adoption at three years old. And I, approaching 10 was fascinated with this young new neighbor two doors down. At 13, I began to babysit Her.
At 16, I was her chauffeur, confidant and mentor after her adoptive parents divorced and she rebelled. At 17 I was taking her to church every opportunity I got. At 21 she would come stay with me on weekends while I was away at college. Then she rebelled more, ran away the night I fell in love with my would-be husband. She was sent to live in a facility for troubled youth in Oregon. At 23 I was her high school youth leader even though she was no longer technically in high school.
At 25 she came and lived with Brandon and I for close to a month, occupying the spare bedroom. She was the first person I ever slapped across the face...she infuriated me after talking back to her mother disrespectfully instead of apologizing as was arranged.
When I was 28 we were both pregnant with sons, my second child, her first. I was in the hospital with her while she was being induced. I held her hand during contractions as the baby's father was in prison and her mother was not off of work yet-at that time their relationship was still strained. While visiting her baby one week after her son was born, my water broke.
I was nanny to her son over my summer vacation the following year.
At 29, while tricker-treating with my kids in my parent's neighborhood, I ran into my dear old friend again, pregnant with her second child. I expressed my congratulations, she secretly confided that she was thinking of getting an abortion- she didn't want to be a single mother of two. Her mother- relationship restored-convinced her to keep the baby.
Two days ago while heading to church, I ran into her mother. My dear friend, her daughter, was in the hospital, dilated to 3 cm.
Last night, Friday, while sitting depressed on the couch longing for what wouldn't be for my would-be daughter Mariah, I got a phone call. My little neighbor had her baby and wanted me to come see her. I tucked my own baby, Tabby, into bed and headed to the hospital.
Upon my entry to her room, she asked everyone to leave-her baby's dad and his mom. And while the newborn slept we caught up on lost time. She expressed her concerns of motherhood, I assured her she and her baby would be fine. She was well. Her boyfriend doing well, recently moved in, got a job. Graduated from parole. Her oldest son healthy. She happy. My heart warm with memories of how far she's come, how much she has matured.
Upon getting ready to end my visit she asked me to hold her newborn son, she was afraid to hold him and wanted my help to try and get him to nurse as she had been unsuccessful. And so I cradled this young life, prayed blessings over his head aloud, praised God for her life and the lives of her children. And helped her nurse her son for the first time. we were both nears tears of joy as he latched on and suckled for 20 min. Something even the nurses had been unsuccessful at; they told her she would probably have to bottle feed.
I kissed her head. And left her to the privacy of bonding between her and her young son. Assuring her to call me if she needed anything.
I walked away from the hospital. Triumphant, elated, confident. God lays out the plans for our life long before we are born. This young mother, after so many years spent praying over her is well. I know in my heart that one day I will have a similar experience with Mariah. Passing the torch of experience and wisdom to the next generation. Seeing the results of years of pray, worry and love come to bloom in her success of happiness. Not in my time, but in Gods perfect timing.
Last night was one of the top highlights of my life. Last night was therapy for my aching soul. Last night gave me hope for the future.
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