18 years

So I am a mother of an 18 year old child.


So for 18 years I have raised a beautiful little baby girl into a woman. I have endured every fit, wiped every tear, encouraged every smile and have raised a small grown up.

When my beautiful baby was born I was too young and too dumb. I found out I was pregnant and stubbornly I decided to become her mother. In turn she raised me. I didn’t know all what I was supposed to do. I struggled so hard, cried at night while she slept and smothered her in kisses as much as possible.  I probably failed a lot along the way. I struggled so hard, cried at night while she slept and smothered her in kisses as much as possible. I tried my best and loved her with all my heart. I wanted to give her everything. I wanted her to see the world. I wanted her to be as happy as she could possibly be.

She was my first love. We drove one anther crazy. She became one my best friends. I am always proud, always in awe and always worried if she will turn out okay.

So far she hasn’t turned out terrible. So far she has turned out pretty good. Most adults like her. She is respectful most of the time and I really believe she will do great things. I remind myself daily she won’t always be a teenager. I remind myself I have raised her to be strong even strong willed.

I consider this 18 years a celebration of my baby becoming a woman but also me completing 18 years of motherhood. I did it. I grew a person in my belly, gave her what I could, taught her what I could and now we get to see what she is going to do. Oh the places you’ll go beautiful daughter. I made it! Now here’s to 18 more years!


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