Today my baby girl turns 20. Twenty. I keep staring at that number and wondering how it’s possible that it’s been 20 years since I became a mom. Twenty years since I learned to dress and care for a newborn, since I started breastfeeding (and kept at it, despite a full time job, until she was 13 months old), since I went without sleep and showers, since my whole world turned upside down in a completely overwhelming and marvelous way. I know that twenty isn’t a big birthday in the way that 21 is but it’s the end of Hannah’s teenage years and that seems . . . momentous somehow.
And speaking of momentous, Hannah has had a pretty momentous year. She made an important career decision that resulted in her transferring to a different university. She decided to live at home and be a commuter to save money and to save herself the horrors (her opinion, not mine) of dorm life. She got her driver’s license. She worked out a schedule that allows her to work 3 days a week and attend school 2 days a week. She has saved money to buy a car and pay for her own insurance.
She has, in other words, grown up. A lot. Dale and I are so very proud of her and how far she has come. And yet, while she is now officially in her twenties and making decisions that will play out for the rest of her life and all, well, she is still my baby girl.
Happy 20th, sweet Hannah. I love you to the moon and back.