For mother and daughter, moment of a lifetime

It was, after so long, her moment.

And so it was a moment for all of them, ushered in with a most basic and loving gesture: a daughter returning the favor of a mother's love.

"This," Chelsea Clinton said, "is the story of my mother."

In an arena with tens of thousands of supporters, before millions of viewers, she spoke softly. Her tender stories of a mother's sensible advice about imaginary triceratops, of being a child who knew the "feeling of being valued and loved" stilled the crowd.

But the words carried power. As did her final line: "Ladies and gentlemen, my mother, my hero, and our next president, Hillary Clinton."

At 10:27 p.m. Thursday, the Democratic presidential nominee joined her daughter onstage. Arms outstretched, they embraced. One hug, and then another from Chelsea. A pat on the back from Hillary. A smile. Looking crisp in an all-white suit, her daughter in red, Hillary Clinton seemed nearly, but not quite, overwhelmed.

She moistened her lips and waved to the audience, a sea of flags and Hillary signs, one hand on her heart. Two thumbs up. Pointing to the crowd, she looked to connect with those she knew.

A deep breath, hands clenched on the lectern, she exhaled.

At long last, Hillary Clinton carried the moment. "Thank you," she said, but it could barely be heard above the din.

Then she got down to the business of her speech.

In these moments, a cascading and full-throated pyrotechnical delirium - the kind of reception Clinton has not always inspired - her most fervent supporters saw something more than a historic first for women.

It was about a woman who has stood her ground, clawing back time and again, who in their brimming eyes has been ready to be elected president for too long and long enough.

"This is high time, and she's ready," said Harriet Helfenbein, 65, a neighbor of Clinton's in Chappaqua, N.Y., and a campaign donor.

As the former secretary of state took the stage, women and men waved American flags, cheered, or wiped away tears.

Sheila Lewis, 61, a delegate from Baton Rouge, La., stretched he flag up high. "Incredible," she said, shaking her head.

Like the nominee, Lewis knew a thing about life's speed bumps.

She said she was once turned down for a leadership position: The hiring committee had been blunt enough to tell her they thought the job would be better handled by a man. She should get a Ph.D., they told her, even though one was not needed for the job.

"Well, I'm sitting here to tell you by the grace of God I was so motivated I left and I earned my Ph.D. in higher education," Lewis said.

Even before Clinton, the night was marked by living feminist history: the first transgender woman, Sarah McBride, to address a national political convention, a stage full of female U.S. senators.

"Women, put your lipstick on, men polish those shoes," said Sen. Barbara Mikulski of Maryland, subverting gender cliches. "We're ready to fight."

The nominee had done so, more than once, almost always in the public glare. Her career path had meandered more than she might have hoped.

So many women can relate, said Ana Cruz, 43, a Florida delegate.

"It is a personal and professional triumph for her and for many of us who have had her back for so long," said Cruz, seated in swing-state prominence a dozen rows from the stage, right under the balloon drop.

"This is not just a woman thing," Cruz said. "This is about her record, who she is as a human being, what she stands for."

On the packed convention floor, they held their Hillary signs, the culmination of a week that began with Michelle signs, then Joe, then Obama. They wore buttons that proclaimed, simply, "HER." But the mood went well beyond giddy.

They shouted "Hill-ary! Hill-ary!" and it almost seemed as if Hillary Clinton did not want to be interrupted.

Helfenbein, her friend from New York, watched.

Some cried, but she did not.

Still, she said, she was struck by one thing. "I believe there is a kinship of womanhood that lifts women up and makes them believe," she said.

"Is the world ready for her?" Helfenbein added. "I think the world needs her. And I think she knows what her endgame is."

arosenberg@phillynews.com 609-823-0453 @amysrosenberg