525600 minutes: Umbilical Cord? Cut here? Now?

Tomorrow - 4th January - signifies and confirms 18 years of suspicions and suppositions. Tomorrow, my daughter turns 18 years old and I have successfully managed to keep her alive and in tact for 18 years.

On a stinking hot Melbourne summer day of 40 degrees, we brought her home 18 years ago and, after 7 hours of sleeping solidly in one of those council baby car seats that you're given almost token like from the Family Health Centre, I thought I'd killed her. I remember asking her Daddy to check if she was still breathing.

Tomorrow....I expect a telegram from the Queen signifying to the world that I, in fact, managed to keep my child alive for the first 18 years of her life.

If I were to close my eyes and examine the montage of how I have experienced her up until now, it goes something like this:

clean, white baby, squinty eyes and even then stubborn as an ass - refused to breathe until she was ready to on her terms- had every on their toes even then.

a silouette of her father - this big strong rugby-like built man, sitting in a rocking chair with her safely tucked in his arms, rocking, rocking, rocking until she fell asleep - curtains open, street lights on outside - the rest of the world oblivious that at No. 4 was a little bundle who would not sleep unless her Dad didn't.

voice like Daffy Duck, inquisitive, energetic, mischievous, gentle but please don't get too close.

Dark brown curls that were Medusa like - could not get a brush through them - wild yet soft.

Maternally protective about her brother - "...but why is he cwying, Mummy? Mistuh? Why yah yoo cwying? Mistuh? accompanied by a solid kiss on his forehead. "Ay (Ali) sit with you, Mistuh? You yah vewwy noithy boyyo"

First word said, first time walking, first tooth out, first day at school, first friend.......first born tore my heart open. Could not help but love her.

First day at school - happy, friendly, all these new friends.....

Take my photo, Daddy..... "Wiggle it, just a little bit. C'mon wiggle it...."

Tears of pure heartache when told about Mummy and Daddy separating - her heart shattered and the echo of her grief will remain with me forever. I prefer to scan over these years - her hurt is still too much for me to recall.

First day at high school - "OMG! I look like a nun, please take my hem up!!"

Sleep overs with friends, school camp - first time away from Mum and her Dad - first time Mummy ran after the bus yelling to the driver "Look after my baby!" closely followed with the first public humiliation experienced.

Growing into a young girl with very strong opinions, very strong personality - athletic, sporty, humourous, loud, gregarious.

Spreading her wings, ready to fly but still only 14 years old - this is very frustrating.

End of high school....big open world out there.

We've had our moments, Alex and I. We've had beautiful times of love and laughter and girliness - shopping, shoes, shocking haircuts....we've also had times that have challenged our relationship - tears, tantrums, tirades.......

But tomorrow? Tomorrow I celebrate that I didn't kill her on that first day, bringing her home in the safety capsule........................but there's still time!