Laney is 11

It was 11 years ago tonight. 

A rough couple of weeks were coming to a close. 

I had gone to my normal doctor's appointment not expecting anything out of the ordinary. I had seen a new doctor, and after examining me, she exclaimed  "You're four and a half centimeters! You need to go home and get your bags packed because I'm probably going to see you back here at the hospital tonight to deliver this baby..."

I called my husband before I had even left the parking lot and asked him to get off work early and come home as soon as possible. I called my mom and asked her to come to the house when she got off work too.

I went home to a quiet house and finished packing my hospital bag. I was crying, a ball of nervous excitement. I knew it was my last night as a person that wasn't a mother. I sat down to wait on my husband and mom to get to the house. They arrived. We all sat in the living room and waited.

And nothing happened.

Mom went home and I went to bed, fully expecting to wake up in the middle of the night in labor.

I didn't.

Matter of fact, I didn't go into labor for two and a half more weeks.

That was a long two and a half weeks. 

I sort of gave up on ever going into labor.

Thanksgiving approached and my sister-in-law sweetly excused me from doing anything except showing up to her house. The night before Thanksgiving day we got pizza and the husband kindly watched "Legally Blonde" with me. I went to bed and slept for about an hour before I woke up with excruciating heartburn. I headed downstairs for some milk and met Allen on the stairs as he was coming up to bed. After the glass of milk I returned to bed only to find that I could not get comfortable. I tossed and turned and finally realized that I was contracting and doing so pretty regularly.

I didn't want to wake up the sleeping husband who had just fallen asleep. I turned on the television and started watching Thanksgiving episodes of old sitcoms. After a couple of hours of timing the contractons they had stayed regular, and  I knew I had to wake him up even though he had only been asleep for a short time.

We headed to the hospital and waited until 7 am to call the family.

Soon twelve family members were all in one waiting room waiting on our first child and the first grandchild, and great-grandchild, to be born.

They waited until 5:39 that afternoon.

I apologized profusely. That was a long wait.

It was worth it, though. 

I got my daughter. 

There aren't words to describe how much I love this girl. She is my heart. She takes me to the edge of my sanity. She delights me and challenges me and sanctifies me and teaches me and loves me and makes me laugh. I love being her mother and I pray that she will always be my friend. I pray that she will always be thankful that the Lord gave me to her as her mother. 

As we approach these preteen years, I sometimes find myself eyeing her with complete trepidation. We are alike enough to completely clash some days, but for the most part our desire to stay in harmony outweighs any lasting conflict. 

There are days I miss the baby that she was, but I can honestly say that I like being her mom more with each passing day. She's complex and smart. The person that she is growing into truly amazes me. She is far smarter that I ever was at her age, and I have to work hard to stay a few steps ahead of her even now. I stay amazed at how easily she retains information and how much she loves to learn. 

She is funny and makes me laugh. She is a complete klutz just like her mother. She is musical just like her daddy. She is responsible and takes care of me and her brothers too. She has her bad days, and she will always have some struggles deep within. She will have to work harder at some things than her brothers will, and there are days I pray fervently that she follows Christ all her life. 

She had a depth of spiritual knowledge that makes me so thankful for the work the Lord has done in her. I'm grateful that He saved her. I'm thankful for the work He has done in her and pray that work continues. 

I also love that this year she has a "real" birthday - she will always be a Thanksgiving baby. 

She had her voice recital last week. She did really well considering we all questioned whether or not she would actually go through with it. As I watched her with her friends on stage doing what she loves, I was proud and scared too. She's growing up. My days of parenting her are becoming less and less. I pray that she has a good foundation that will last her a lifetime. 

I'm also just really really glad that I get to be her mom.