My baby turned 15 yesterday, and as is the case with every birthday of my children, it was a day of reflection for me. I looked at her long and hard and saw a beautiful, strong, healthy, lean, young, almost-woman who, unknowingly, is taking her first steps into adulthood with driver education training, a part-time job and savings account, family and social responsibilities that happen as a result of her choosing, and, of course, the need to prioritize, or as we like to call it in the 21st century – multi-task.

Chelsea was born stubborn. In fact, she was stubborn in the womb, remaining breach until six weeks before delivery when I had her turned in a procedure called a version. It’s like the invasion of the baby snatchers, with four, medically trained hands placed on my large belly, gently turning my baby, centimeter by centimeter, until she was in the preferred head-first position. When she was less than 24 hours old, yellowed with jaundice and refusing to eat, her pediatrician told me this: “If you survive the teen years with this child, you will come to admire her as an adult.” I have never forgotten those words, or the spirit in which they were delivered – honor this child’s will, let her be her own wonderful human being and the results will be phenomenal. The words have rung true, for sure. And though I haven’t completely survived the teen years (yet), I have learned something about respect and honor and more about choosing battles.

Chelsea’s big sister turned 18 just a couple of months ago. A milestone, a right of passage, and an all-around wonderful time in the life of a young woman. Though not as stubborn as her sister, Jess is a very independent, free-spirited individual. Our journey to her adulthood has been marked with the usual firsts: first teeth, first friends, first bus ride, first period, first crush, first heart break, first detention, first car accident, first all-night party, first college visit, first vote to be cast, and soon….the first time she will leave the only home she has ever known to live on her own.

I look at this beautiful, bright young woman still as her mother, sometimes as a friend, but always in admiration. She has taken the life she was given and made it a wonderful work of art, a tapestry of events, memories, loves, losses, dreams and hopes for her times to come. Jess is poised on the edge of greatness, ready to take the next first step. I look on in awe and honestly with no regrets other than the one we all have – the inability to slow time. But now, each day, I remember to slow time just a bit – when I look at her face, or hear soft footsteps on the stairs, long after I am in bed. I purposefully slow time just a little to mark the good fortune to have her with me, just a little bit longer. Oh, she will always be with me, of course. And, with e-mail, cell phones, and now instant and text messaging, there is really never a time that we can’t stay connected. “Mom,” she said, “when I go away to school, the rule is only one phone call a day.”

As Mother’s Day approaches and we take the time to recognize the universal love of all the moms in the world, I wanted to take a minute to pay tribute to the kids who bring that love alive in all of us. From the first moment, and I’m guessing right down to the last, it’s our kids after all that teach us how to be great and loving mothers. As moms, we can’t imagine taking the last bite of ice cream, the last seat on the train, or the last dollar in our wallets if we think our kids need it more. They have taught us to be less selfish, and to love unconditionally. My friend, Robin, once said that she would step in front of a moving train, if necessary, to protect or save either of her boys. It’s that total and consuming love I think we all have as mothers that really allows us to be whole. So, on this Mother’s Day, I thank my kids for every flower they ever picked for me; for every poem, card and picture drawn. I thank them for every laugh and each single moment of joy. But, mostly, I thank them for helping me to become whole.

Happy Mother’s Day.