My first-born broke the chain. Not by rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but by refusing to live someone else’s script.
I think all of our relationships, especially children, bring a gift, a truth, a lesson. All relationships offer us a chance to grow, to become more than we thought we were.
Like many of my young-adult choices, becoming a mother arrived less from deep intention than from momentum and expectation:
- get the degrees
- get married
- get pregnant
None of those things quite matched my fantasy of myself as a detached world traveler and bohemian wordsmith. But life has a way of delivering unexpected gifts through relationships we didn’t fully plan for.
My first-born Audrey is special. Not because she was expected of me, not because she did the expected things. Not even because she was a honeymoon baby or because she was born on Mother’s Day. She made me a mom, her dad a baba, and transformed all four grandparents to Teta, Mama Nick, Jedo, and Papa Nick, but even those transitions that her birth benchmarked are not the reason she’s special.
Breaking the Chain
I’m still continuing to discover the best special parts, but there were predictive moments in her childhood.
At one and a half, she tripped and bumped her head against the hallway wall. When she recovered from the shock, she returned to the hallway and approached the offending wall, tapping her head—gently at first—against it, then again a little harder, and again… It took me a moment to realize she was curious. What happened? Why did it happen? How did it happen?
One of her adulthood strengths is her unwavering curiosity: I want to understand, know more, know how.
At her end-of-kindergarten performance, one of her classmates decided she couldn’t perform her part at the very last minute.
“I got this” and Audrey filled in and became the best Pocahontas.
In high school choir, the director put her in a pit with all the percussions and whistles. She didn’t tell us before the show, and the lack of expectation added to our delight as we watched her dart from triangle to gong to drum to kazoo, never missing a beat or a slide.
Audrey continues to pull surprises out of her magic hat: Oh, I can do that! But the thing I admire most is that she broke the chain of expectations that I allowed to limit me.
She didn’t follow a path her parents or ancestors dictated or mapped out for her. She chose her own. And she wasn’t afraid to pivot—sometimes drastically—when she hit dead ends or when the path didn’t fit. She would pivot with the curiosity of that toddler in the hallway, the tenacity of her kindergarten Pocahontas, and the precision of her high-school percussionist.
She’ll probably return to that hallway of life with questions and pivot again. And again and again.
And I’m here for it.
Happy Birthday, Audrey!
Thanks for making my first Mother’s Day so special.
Thanks for reminding me to stay curious, to be unafraid of change, and to keep showing up as myself, again and again.
You broke the chain by refusing to mistake expectation for destiny.
I laughed when you snorted What’s so special about 37 because in every decade of my life, I hated the sevens. I already had one foot out of the decade I was in and the other in the dreaded decade ahead. But you broke that psychological chain, too. You’re standing solid in the year you’re in. You’re fully here for it. And that makes me want to celebrate you even more.
©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026
Recent Comments