I have been struggling with this for a few weeks now. The reasons why it took me so long to write it all out escapes me...even though I love to share my thoughts, my inmost feelings laid bare is a trifle more difficult to put to ink and paper. Or keyboard to monitor, as it were.
I have been caring for Hazelnut since October. I love having her with me. At first it was every day (Monday-Friday) and in January it went to three days a week. She is a joy to have, and when I am alone with her, I find myself watching her as if I have never before seen an infant. I find myself wishing that all my other grandchildren were with me, one by one, if even for a few hours...to be alone with them. To observe them. To watch, silently, the birth of new personality. I can barely write about ANY of them without having to stop because I cannot see the keys through my tears. I love them all that much. And more.
I have tried over the past couple of months, to remember exactly what it felt like when I was holding my own babies. Their snuggling, cuddling, laughter and tears. I try. I find it very difficult, even when I close my eyes and see Cheerios or Rachigga or Happy as tiny babies...to remember the feeling. The joy. The peace. That baby smell I love so much. Those extremely quiet, alone times when I would watch them sleep. I do remember a lot of it...but it seems to be fading from my mind's eye. It's blurry...fuzzy...faint.
And then, in the night, as I was crying because of the overwhelming emotion of memories...I wondered where it all started. Where did this rush of love begin? Then, as in a dream, I was flying through my life to that exact place.
I love...adore...cherish...am devoted to my precious, beautiful girls. I am in awe of them as women and wives and mothers. There are times when I pray that someday, I can be as they are...loving, giving, caring women.
But that is not where I landed. It was November 1977. When I found out I was having my first baby. That is where it all began. Making that choice to have the child within me...to be the mother...alone and afraid. It was with the birth of Cheerios that this love began. The first sight of him. Those eyes...so much wiser than my own...he changed my life forever. It was his birth...his little life, that put me on that road. This one single event in my life...lead me to the road I travel today.
He grounded me. Caused me to be so much more aware of my selfishness. Cheerios changed me. Forever. It was a long experience...a long teaching...a beautiful awakening. This one choice...to give birth...put me on my journey to Christ. To my salvation. To my husband. To my girls. This one tiny, little boy. I will forever be grateful...and indebted...to my Cheerios, for "saving" me...for being the son I have always wanted...more than I could ever have hoped or dreamed.
I have come to this conclusion...sometimes, as Mom's, we do not think we are very good at our job. We look at all our mistakes (and with me, there are oh so many...too many to count) and believe we are the worst Mom in the history of the world. But, here's the thing...God gave me grandchildren. And why? So that I can be a better Mom by being a great Oma.
I love my babies so incredibly...its very thought crushes me with emotions so deep, I am paralyzed, unable to move or speak through the rush of tears. When I allow the feelings to come, my innermost parts convulse with rapture and fear and anticipation. I am consumed with the joy of all of them and wonder who on earth is as blessed as I? And still...there is a peace and a calm the emotion brings that I cannot deny, and I choose, once again...life.
Such a beautiful family.
