It's not possible, it's graduation day.

Today is the day.  The day that every parent looks forward to with equal parts of dread and joy.  The day that you start planning for, whether you realize it or not, even months before your child is born.  Today is the day when my daughter leaves behind her childhood and enters into the big wide world of adulthood.  There are a lot of things I know about today, but there is something I don't understand, how is it possible that today is here already? 

Libby was my miracle baby.  They now have a super cool name for babies like her, she was my rainbow baby.  She was also my first born and I have never wanted anything so badly as I wanted to meet her.  I loved every second of being pregnant with her, except those two weeks overdue that she kept making me wait.  I'm not going to lie and say I loved the whole delivery thing; 29 1/2 hours and then an emergency c-section was not the magical experience I had been envisioning for the 42 weeks prior.  But once they handed me my big girl I was in love.  I was scared to death about being responsible for her, but I had never loved anything more than I loved that little baby girl.

That love got me through every single thing that came our way.  There were the thousands of bottles and diapers; combined with first smiles, first words, lullabies sung in quiet, darkened bedrooms.  We graduated to the Barbies and Thomas the Train, Bear in the Big Blue House, camping trips, pneumonia, coloring pages, coloring herself ("I'm a Lion"), coloring her things and then she became a big sister.

Nothing made her happier or more proud than being a big sister.  She never thought I was doing a good enough job at being mommy, huh - funny how that hasn't changed- and constantly was telling me what Sophie needed or wanted.  She was patient and understanding and never complained once that there was a new person taking up so much of her momma's time.  She was my biggest helper and she literally took care of herself from a very young age.  That became obvious as she grew, well maybe I should say "got older".  (Libby found a note from her doctor as we sifted through things for graduation.  On it were her height and weight at her 5 year old checkup.  She weighed in at a whopping 35.5 pounds.  And she didn't grow much from there until her 8th grade year.)

I remember watching her as she got older and entered the horse show world.  When other little kids were tearing around on their bikes or playing in the sand, Libby was sitting with the adults and soaking up the conversations.  And she wasn't afraid to add in what she knew or thought either.  That never changed.  She was always there with us, learning and absorbing things beyond her years.  Discussing topics that shouldn't be interesting to an 8, 11 or later 15, 16, 17 year old; but that didn't stop her from being there and wondering or putting in her two cents worth.

I will never forget the moment I told the girls that their father and I were getting a divorce.  Sophie was blindsided and devastated.  Libby, not quite 13,  sat stone faced and calm, looked at me and said "I knew this was coming".  Then she wanted to know what the plan was, what was going to happen and how we were going to deal with it.  That's my Libby.  No matter how good of a job I thought I was doing covering things up, hiding things, making the best of things; you don't get much by her.  She's always observing and she's always figuring it out.  But she's also my partner in crime.

For a lot of years, I was alone in raising the girls.  Shannon was gone on the road working, gone with friends on side jobs, gone doing this or that.  Many years it felt like it was Libby and I against the world.  I relied on her to be a babysitter, look after the horses, check on her dad, relay messages, take food out of the oven, you name it.  I remember the time I was laid out flat by the stomach flu and she had to meet the vet because her pony was sick.  She was probably 11 and the vet said she handled herself like an adult the entire time.  She was always wise beyond her years, stronger than any kid I knew and more mature.  She didn't complain, she did what I asked and yes, I know that sometimes she was literally flying around trying to do it when she saw my van pulling in the driveway.  Often I would hear my very own thoughts come flying out of her mouth.  I remember distinctly the time that she told her dad, when he told her to bring him another beer, that he had probably had enough to drink.  It was when I had an "OMG" moment of "I have effectively cloned myself."

As the divorce progressed and I entered into the next disaster, it was Libby who picked up the pieces of me at the end of that relationship as well.  It was also Libby who told me it was okay to love again and it was Libby there telling me to give Tim a chance.  It was Libby trying to hold her sister together when things went south with her dad.  It was Libby "volunteering as tribute" as she called it when it came time for her sister to confront their dad.  It's been Libby telling me I'm right when I ask about this or that, and it's been Libby who hasn't been afraid to tell me when I'm doing it wrong too. (Usually about something related to parenting her sister.)

Every parenting book out there would tell you that you shouldn't be friends with your kids.  You should keep the lines clearly drawn in the sand and keep the relationship as parent and child.  My ex's often yelled at me for listening to her opinions and actually conforming to them some of the time.  I remember Ryan yelling at me that sometimes it was like we reversed roles.  Especially when it came to horses.  There were definitely times when it went from me telling her to sit up straight, keep her hand up, slow down her legs; to Libby on the sidelines telling me to fix my lead, relax and put my shoulders back.  I know that I have done a lot of things wrong in parenting my kids, I could write a few blogs on the many ways I have screwed up as a parent, but no one will ever convince me, that loving Libby as fiercely and as closely as I have was ever wrong.  She is my best friend.  We have been through more together than anyone will ever know and she has literally seen me at the very rock bottom and loved me through it.  She was strong when I was not and she never held one of those 10 million mistakes against me.

Looking back, there are a thousand things I would have done differently.  I would have let her be a kid and not counted on her for so much.  I would have not sworn around her so she didn't develop such a foul mouth (like her mother).  I would have gotten divorced sooner and picked a better male role model for her step parent earlier.  I would hide my anxiety better from her.  I would have encouraged her more to go out with friends and maybe read a few less books. I would have made her go to Sunday school, church and confirmation.  I would have been a better parent in a thousand different ways.  But looking at the adult she has become, I couldn't be more proud of her and I have to believe that I must have done a few things right.

While I have effectively cloned myself in that she's a homebody, fairly introverted, singing, book loving, horseback riding, writer; she is also her own person that doesn't understand my love of all things floral, the Carpenters and Harry Potter.  I couldn't be happier for her on this day but I also couldn't be more torn up about being left behind as she moves forward into her own life.  I know I'll survive, but it's a bit like removing a part of me that I've come to count on for so long I don't remember how I lived without it.

I've lived in a haze of lasts this year.  Last concert, last performance, last this, last that.  Her last day of high school, her last awards program, her last... her last...her last.... And for an entire year I pretended that this day wasn't coming.  It's funny how a person can just NOT think about the thing they are dreading the most.  I'm not worried about Libby.   I know she will succeed and rise above.  She will have her struggles, but she is strong.  She will have her moments where it feels like she can't get up that one more time and she will want to "throw in the towel".  But I've seen what she can do.  She is a fighter and has more guts and grit than the average kid.  She will go off and do her thing and live her life.  It's what I have been preparing her for since I held her that first time.

But I also wish this day had never come.  I wish she had stayed my little girl forever.  I wish I could turn back the clock and have just a few more firsts and a few less lasts.  I wish I had listened when people told me it would go by too fast and I wish that I had one more day as being that little Libby Lou's "mommy".  Today my baby graduates from high school and I still can't figure out how that is possible when toddlers don't get to graduate.  Somewhere along the line she grew up on me, no matter how much I begged her to stop.

Congratulations Liberty Rose on your big day.  I love you to the moon and back (or farther if that's possible) and I am oh so very proud of the adult you have become.  Now is the time to show the world what I have always known and that is that you are incredible, unbelievable, and an astonishing young woman.  If I can't keep you to myself forever, then go and be great!