Aside from the 37 hour labor, 11 days past her due date, she really was almost too easy, as a baby. She was 16 months before she walked; instead, she happily sat on any surface and entertained herself with her surroundings- be that toys, people or pine straw. 

I should’ve known.

It was 30 hours into labor when my midwife looked at me and announced: 

“This is not your story to tell.”

Time stopped. My heart stopped. My tears flowed. 

Aurora had two cords wrapped around her neck at birth, delaying her arrival for good reason. 

My midwife looked me dead in my eyes to tell me when to push, when to pause and suddenly, urgently, when, with a roar, to give it my all. 

From the beginning, my daughter and I have challenged one another. 

Now, the tween years- the ones everyone before me has warned of. 

I fruitlessly planned for Aurora’s birth. 

I refuse to plan for these next days. 

Instead, I meet her where she is, each day. 

Just like her birth, it’s not easy. 

It never was. 

We cry, we argue, we admit our mistakes and we hug. 

It’s exhausting and rewarding. 

My girl has been stubborn from the beginning. 

But with good reason. 

It’s her story to tell. 

Not mine. 

I should’ve known.