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The Family Room by Michelle Martin

January 20, 2008

10 YEARS IN

Ten years ago this week, Caroline was born. She came into a world that has seen a lot of things change — we were in the second term of Bill Clinton’s administration then, no one conceived of Sept. 11 or a second Iraq war and Michael Jordan was still a Bull.

But in most ways, the world is much the same: most people spend most of their time just trying to get through the day and make a living. Some see the future as bright, some as threatening and some see it different ways depending on the day.

What Caroline has changed is us. Her arrival made us into a family, giving her dad and I something to focus on together.

I look at baby pictures of her and marvel at the little scrunched up face, the tiny feet, the intensity of purpose. I remember the Teletubbie years (maybe it was only months, but it seemed like years) when the colorful, babytalking creatures seemed caught in a bizarre permanent dance across our TV screen.

I remember the sadness on her first day of preschool, and kindergarten, and how nervous she was about starting at a new school.

I look at her at 10, and wonder where this girl — now too old to be called a “big girl,” because it would be insulting — came from.

She is taller than my shoulder, and wears shoes only a size or two smaller than mine. She plays basketball and piano, gets good grades and reads near constantly. She has her own opinions about just about everything, and, with her family at least, she isn’t afraid to share them.

When she was born, I didn’t know how much her own person she would be. When she was born, I thought I would have more control over the way she turned out. When she was born, I thought I knew best. I thought I would do everything right, and I would protect her from all danger.

In 10 years, I’ve learned that I didn’t know much. Caroline is totally and completely herself, and she’s not about to let me or anyone else change that. And she is totally and completely different from her brother — lest we, her parents, think that we had much to do with developing our children’s personalities.

She has a loving, generous nature and a quick temper. She is not a morning person. She writes and illustrates homemade comic books and magazines for fun.

I’ve learned that she does need me, to love and nurture and even discipline, to insist, for example, on some level of neatness, but not to expect that she will ever be a neatnik.

I’ve learned that she’s a great kid and wonderful person, but not someone for whom I can take any credit. That credit goes to God, who, Scriptures assure us, knew us all before we were born.

Martin is assistant editor of the Catholic New World. Contact her at [email protected].