Nichole Timmreck

Nola: An Essay

When I brought my baby home, I was overjoyed. After years of infertility, I was keenly aware of the gift that was this perfect little human I had just delivered. So the tears that I shed those first few weeks were actually for another—I was grieving the loss of my first baby, who was no longer a baby at all, but my now nine-year-old “big girl,” Nola. Once I brought her sister home, Nola’s hands suddenly seemed so much bigger. Her feet were large, and she seemed taller. I realized how much she had grown when I wrapped my arms around her, and I mourned the loss of my baby girl. 

“You can’t always cry because I’m growing up,” she said to me one night, just another one of her surprisingly insightful statements she’s said to me over the years. And of course, she was right. 

Nola has always been a spirited child. Challenging to parent, but a fascinating human. She once confidently strutted down a movie theater hallway by herself wearing sunglasses when she was three because she thought they made her invisible.

To parent a spirited child is exhausting (she constantly has me on edge), but her love of life is admirable and a bit infectious. When she was in first grade Nola tried out for a part in a rendition of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. (She was “Whiner,” so not your classic Snow White story.) Her performance was great as you would expect with her big, out-going personality. But when I made the comment that I wished I were not afraid to get up on stage and do something like that, she was quick to correct me. “I was scared,” she said, “but I did it anyway.” And there it was. Another life lesson made painfully obvious by my child.

I have learned a lot from her, including how not to parent. It seems so unfair that the first-born has to be the guinea pig. The one with whom we make all of our first-time parent mistakes. I hope that I have not screwed up too much, but I fully anticipate being the subject of many adult counseling sessions down the road. When I lay my head down at night, I often wonder, “was I enough of whatever she needed me to be today?” As I solo-parent yet again through another deployment, I realize more and more that being a mom is one job that I refuse to suck at. She is adjusting to so much right now. Not only is she getting used to no longer being an only child after nine long years of being the apple of her parents’ eyes, but she is also growing up, maturing, which she says she is not ready for. Me neither, baby girl. Me neither.

Nola credits being a military kid to making her feel brave. To do things like ride horses, make new friends, or perform in a dance recital or play. She is also very creative. Though she does not believe it, this girl has incredible talent. She has no idea that the ability to draw, which comes so easily to her, is a gift that does not come as easily to everyone else. Her mind works three-dimensionally, and she is always coming up with some new design, picture, or creation. Her room is a mess (and makes my Type A personality anxious when I step into it), but it is her creative sanctuary (or so I tell myself when she refuses to clean it).

Nola has not had it easy. As a self-proclaimed “full-military” kid (because her dad and I both serve on active duty), Nola was born in Germany and has lived in four different states now:Hawaii, Kansas, Colorado, andNorth Carolina. Because of our dual-military status, she did not live with her dad for two years during a geographic separation. She has made it through three deployments and many, many temporary duty assignments. She has a difficult time accepting that she and/or her friends will move away from each other every few years, trying desperately to hold on to those bonds and connections. (The funny thing about the military though, is that there is a really good chance she will see those friends again at a future assignment. As big as the military is, it is still unbelievably small.) 

Nola believes in magic, loves horses, and plays sports, especially tennis with her natural athleticism. Not only is she mentally strong, she is physically strong as well. She is so many good things wrapped up into one person. “My favorite person in the whole world,” as I told her growing up. I only hope that she sees herself the way that I see her: Fearless.

My Little Artist

Military Strong

Curiosity