Ten years ago today, I had a lunch date with my OB and
Olivia Ellen, more affectionately summoned by calling out “Liv”, was delivered
into this world.
Her APGARs were 10 and 10 out of 10 at one and five minutes
respectively, which, we were told, is pretty rare. She was ready to take on the world and, well,
she was loud about it. When I first saw
her, I remember distinctly thinking, “Hm….that’s interesting,” as she really
looked nothing like what I was
accustomed to seeing in the characteristics that the triplets shared before
her. As time would tell, her personality
as the child in the middle also couldn’t be more unique.
I’m not going to lie…as she turned the corner into her 3’s
and pretty much until about the age of 7, the loud and proud APGAR thing held
it’s own very outwardly and I worried that one of the two of us would end up
smashing our own head through a wall in frustration, and I was quite sure that
the person was going to be me. I’d
abandoned a full cart in Target to escape a full-throttle meltdown. We took a “Love and Logic” class just because
of her to try to pick up on tricks of the trade. The only way to tame one of her loud and
outwardly obnoxious demonstrations of will was to isolate her to her room where
she could simmer. In a stroke of what I
now own as motherhood brilliance, FINALLY, when she was in Kindergarten, I learned
that the way to get her to instantly do that without physical backlash was to
take out my phone, start the video rolling, and threaten to send it to her
teacher. Yep, patted myself on the back
for that one.
But not really. I
mean, what mother does that?? I was racking my brain inside, fearful of what
she was becoming and why. And quite
frankly, I was thinking, “What the hell am I going to do when she is a
teenager?”
It’s a few years removed from that. Today, she turns 10. I am not a perfect parent. She is not a perfect child. But I stand in awe of the child she is and
the old, kind soul that is her heart.
That fierceness of the 10 on the APGAR scale is still there, but it is
masked in the heart of a quiet, passionate introvert….who is thinking…always
thinking. She prefers to fly under the
radar, she loves her faithful small circle of friends so loyally. She is passionate…about reading, about
learning, about (no kidding) social justice (though she wouldn’t know to call
it that), and about finding ways to distract herself when she has been tasked
with cleaning her room. She will
sometimes open up her heart and tell me all of her deep thoughts about this or
that accompanied with adult-like gestures and conviction. Other times, she will percolate her thoughts
for months, when it later comes out in writing that there was something
weighing on her heart, and then I get scared that I had no idea that it was
even there.
Of course now that she has become quiet and inward instead of loud and outward, I worry about that, too. (I’m not saying I don’t relate…she is the child I get the most). We’ve talked with her teacher about her quest to go unnoticed in a crowd, and I am so thankful for her teacher this year, who has helped her to come out of her shell in her time, in her way, and helped us to see that amazing things sometimes come in quiet packages.
She is at that crossroads…still impressionable enough that I can screw her up, but starting to carve her own path with her own convictions. I am so grateful that I have the chance to pause
I am so humbled that she is ours…our quiet, fierce,
passionate, giggly and snuggly Liv.
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