Happy Thirteen

Thirteen years ago today Harper Hass was born. Tricia woke up around 5 am with labor pains. We dutifully timed them, just as we had been taught. At first they were eight or nine minutes apart. But they kept creeping closer and closer to one another. We stayed calm and tried to keep to our normal morning routine. We knew it would do no good to get to the hospital early.

Finally around 8:30 or so we loaded up our bag and drove to Barnes Jewish Hospital. Driving to the hospital knowing you're about to have a baby is a surreal experience. You're surrounded by all these people in their cars doing completely ordinary things - going to work, running to the grocery store, heading to the gym. Yet we were right in the middle of them all, knowing this morning was anything but ordinary.

By the time Tricia was checked in it was probably a little after 9:00. Thirteen hours later, at 10:10 pm, Harper finally came. She was screaming and more than a bit slimy. The doctor asked if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord. "Uh...no," I responded. Everyone in the room looked at me as though I were some sort of schmuck. "You should do it," they said. I stuck to my guns. Yuck.

We stayed at the hospital for the next three days and tried to pretend like we were parents. That was easy to do. It wasn't until we brought her home that it felt much more real. And probably a little scary. But we survived. And so did she.

We lived in the city in St. Louis at that time. After checking out a number of daycare options we decided it made more sense for one of us to stay home. So I became Mr. Mom. I did the diapers and bottles and nap schedule. I pushed the stroller, visited the zoo, and set up play dates.

We both doted. Too much. We thought to be good parents meant to commit every single second to playing, reading, holding, singing, and watching. Lots of parents do this. By the time Ainsley came a few years later we learned to still do all these things but to also give our kids time to be on their own.

Harper was, and still is, easy. She always did just what you'd want her to and told us every day how much she loved her family. She made friends easily and smiled and smiled and smiled.

When she was five years old we moved to South Carolina and she started kindergarten. Starting school meant we would no longer be her whole world. There were many new influences. Harper loved her teacher. She especially loved Mrs. Mattox's southern accent. So much so, she immediately started creating one for herself. She still has it, that knack for stretching one-syllable words into two.

When she was in kindergarten she did a research project on corn snakes. I had one in my classroom at the time and she was excited to share it with her friends. I remember hiding the snake in the front pocket of my hoodie and then pulling it out when the time came for her to show it to her classmates. Her teacher was horrified. Harper was not. She was fearless.

In the years since, Harper has matured. And grown. There have been many changes. She's thirteen now and she likes to spend most the day hanging out in her bedroom. While her brothers and sister still engage in imaginative play she feels too big for this. She'd rather text her friends. Or write in her journal. Or listen to country music. Yes, country music.

 

She loves horses. And art. And school. 

She hates waking up. 

And cleaning up.

Harper Hass is now thirteen. A teenager. Which leads me to wonder...

How can Tricia and I possibly be old enough to have a teenager?