Sunday, May 10, 2009

To Those Who Made Me A Mommy

Mother's Day 2009

Tiffani, Coral, Lindsey, Amanda, Ian, and Evan...

I love the first time I see you, all wrinkly with your little squished face, crying then pausing when you see me to only start crying again, but that first glimpse of me shows recognition for a split second before you start screaming again because you are cold and mad that you have left the comfort of me.

I love the first time I see your hair, all matted to your little head. I love the way you smell, new, familiar. I wish I could have captured that smell so I would never forget it. I have tears that I can't quite remember it.

I love the first time you realize that we aren't quite as separated as you might have thought. You still need me to live. You squint into the light and see me. The perfect distance for your little eyes to focus. There is no mistake in that. It is divinely planned.

I love that I am not tired for the first time in forever. That I couldn't close my eyes if I wanted to. All I can do is stare at you. Everyone else sleeps from watching me labor, but I am no longer tired. I am energized by looking at your perfectly formed body and wondering who you are, what you will become. You are the picture of perfection, of what it was designed to be. Perfect innocence. Perfect trust. Perfect freedom to just simply rest in the safest place you know now. My arms.

I love that I have to sleep with the light on because we just can't seem to figure each other out in the dark, at least not yet. But we will. We will become pros. No one is better at this than you and I. We are the perfect example of the way this is suppose to work. We are good at what we do once we get the hang of it.

I love that little smile that you do while you are eating. You don't let go. But there is an undeniable smile as you recognize me. I am your mommy. There is no doubt in that. You know me.

I love when I place you on my shoulder to pat your little bottom and you lift your little head, taking every ounce of strength you have, only to bop your little nose on my shoulder. Ouch.

I love how you swing your legs to the side, trying to get your fat little belly onto the floor instead of sticking up in the air where I can kiss it, because you want to know the world more. I love how you finally figure it out. I love that you then scoot across the floor, and if that isn't quick enough for you, you roll faster than imagined. Then you discover your knees. And my do you become quick.

Then you stand and walk around the furniture and sometimes you fall like a tree, straight back. No bend in the legs. I don't love that. But I love remembering every little thing about you.

Then one day, you decide that whatever is in your hand is more important than your safety, so you let go and stand. That is until I freak out and startle you, sending you back to the floor where you are nice and safe.

I love the first time you realize you are doing something you shouldn't. When I walk into the room you turn and start crawling away as fast as you can, usually for me to chase you down and find some random thing stuffed in your chubby little cheek. Where you find this stuff, I will never know. It is a mystery.

Then you grow, and grow, and grow. Everyday filled with giggles, joy, tears, trust, and simply knowing you are safe in this world because you have me, and I love you. You know this. For this I am so thankful.

I love reading to you, especially when you have been freshly bathed and put in footy jamies. The smell of your head is heaven. One of the things that makes my heart warm. Then you snuggle your chubby little self right into the crook of my arm and you listen to every word I say, that is, until you have a question about why this or that is happening. You have many questions.

I love that when you discover your voice, there is only one volume that you speak at. VERY LOUD! Everyone knows you are there.

I love how you say things that I am glad no one understands but me. It makes me laugh, but because they don't understand, they don't get their feelings hurt. Of course there are the times they do understand, and I want to crawl right in a hole and never come out. I would take you with me of course, and then I would try not to laugh and cry while I explain to you why you can't tell someone they have a fat tummy or that their red hair looks like a clown. I love that you are observant, even if you are observing things that need to be kept a secret.

I love that even though you have been busy all day and haven't had the time for me and my kisses and hugs, at the end of the day you realize you still need my kisses and hugs, so you wrap yourself in my cozy blanket and snuggle in my arms calling me mama, even though you are six and bigger than life.

I love hearing my name one million times in a day, even though I want to pull my hair out. I am honored to have this name.

I love when you start spreading your wings even though it scares me. I love that you are becoming who God has designed you to be, even though sometimes you aren't exactly doing what God, or me for that matter, wants you to do. But I love that you are growing, that you are learning to stand on your own two feet. But I also love that you still remember me, that you call me, or text me when you need advice. I love that you look for me on the sidelines, and when you see me you give a little wave or smile to make sure I see you. I hope I always do.

I will never forget that you are my child. I will never forget how you have captured my heart and there is no way that I could pry it loose from your precious, wonderful self. I will never forget how your growth has been my growth, that every step you have taken, I have taken. And even though you grow and may not need me as much to survive, I want you to know that I am who I am because of who you are. The knowledge I have gained, the tears that have ran down my cheeks that came from almost bursting with pride, the joy, the peace, the memories I have today and the memories yet to come are all because of you, and I wouldn't trade it for fancy things, quite times, or a clean house.

You are my life. You made me a mommy.


Sarah said...

I love this! You are wonderful Mom and your children are blessed. Keep on loving them and you will continue to be blessed!

Arlene said...

Absolutely poetry. So beautiful it chokes me up.