This Thing Called Life by Ki O’Shea

Daily I comb her hair. I really do. I washed it last night and parted her hair into three sections. She slept with three ponytails. This morning I brushed and combed each section before putting her hair ties back into her hair. Many days it does not look like I do her hair. There are hair accessories everywhere. She takes them out and I refuse to make her sit down again on that particular day, so I do it all over again the next day.

How in the heck am I going to commit to being “prissy” while having a daughter who I need to spend an equal amount of time grooming?

Three years ago I was in the hospital. I remember walking into the parking garage and sitting in my car. I have no idea what I was thinking, but I do remember sitting in my car crying. Over those 141 days of her NICU stay I repeated that cycle. I watched couples, co-parents, single mothers, grandparents, sisters, cousins, friends help their loved ones in and even out of the NICU. I saw fathers helping their newborns and their wives. I watched fathers anxiously help their pregnant wives/girlfriends get out of the car to check in while grabbing bags, pillows, and other items. I watched families meet their loved ones in the parking lot with their baby in hand to go home.

This journey was far from the journey with Anthony. It was early morning when my water broke with him. I said calmly, “Mike I think my water broke.” No one really teaches you what that means. I was on the toilet. I was 21 years old. In 2003 I would have a baby, graduate with my B.S.; and become a fiancée. I would obvious also become a mom and every minute of the pregnancy was “perfect.” Aside from feeling ill-prepared and clueless, I didn’t think I was ready.

We went to the birthing classes together. Mike only missed one OB/Gyn appointment. We went to most of his check ups together. We both graduated in 2003 and worked together. His mother came and stayed with us to help me post-delivery. Yall, I still remember the pain of a vaginal birth. That pain was something I feared. But the pain from Sedinam was completely different. I was an emergency c-section and I have cried over the last three years. My body is not the same.

Last night I stayed on the phone with an ex until I fell asleep. We talked and he listened to me and I listened to him share “life.” He told me how positive I have always been amongst other things and took me back to many years ago when we dated. He is right. He had me chuckle with my overtly positive energy that I carried especially during that time. I’m not that person anymore. I am much more cautious.

I knew I would not be able to braid her hair tomorrow, so in silence I placed her on my lap, reached for a comb and the hair grease and began braiding her hair in hopes of it lasting for a few days. With each braid, I thought of when Anthony was slightly younger than her and I did the same thing.

Those memories and the great experiences and reminders from those loved ones from our past are needed. While the journey from birthing my amazing once 13 ounce is not the same story as Anthony’s, it’s still full of joyful moments.

As my dad’s hospice nurse walked out this evening after signing her iPad, she asked “how are you always so calm and put together and always positive?” That ex from last evening and others remind me of my disposition. Even in the midst of all that I have going on now, those tears that I shared alone in the car over the last three years, the tears I’ve shared sitting in my bathroom tub and in my closet, I’m thankful.

While this go-round I didn’t have the exact same experience and being a single mom is by far the most humbling job ever while working full time and raising a developmentally challenged young baby girl, I see the good in it all.

I can’t duplicate anyone. I can’t duplicate Mike and I cannot want things that obvious will never happen.

I birthed a 13 ounce baby. I’ve experienced all sorts of emotions again. I’ve.developed a strength that I never knew was there and as I’ve been pushing, she continues to be healthy, happy, joyful, and most importantly she continues to thrive sans push forward as she is one week from turning 3.

Not only do I have to continue to accessorize for me, but for Sedi too. Three years have passed and with all of the challenges and difficulties, I would not change it for the world !

As Anthony shared over a year ago, “yes mom you will be ok” and reminded me that I will not be the first or last baby mom to end up single.

I’ve handled so much calmly and rationale in the last three years and I’m excited to see what the next three years will bring for us!