Note: I was rummaging through a drawer and came upon a yellow pad that I jotted thoughts on many years ago. I found the following, written in March of 1988.
I woke up to hear a very pleasant conversation. I look over at Gary to find that he is soundly sleeping. At the same time my eye catches the clock. It is 6:04 a.m. Of course, our alarm clock is set to run about 17 minutes fast for some reason that makes perfect sense to my sleeping husband.
So, you ask, is the pleasant conversation the remnant of a dream, or is there someone else present? In the next room, Leah Rachel, all 9 months and 25 days of joyful life, is engaged in quite a discussion. I wonder: what does it all mean? Is she really saying something to her companions in her crib, her pink and white cuddly, soft dog or powder blue bear? Is she simply announcing her pleasure at waking up to find another day which promises new and interesting surprises? Or is the pleasure of experimenting with her voice, making new sounds or repeating pleasing ones? I wish I woke up that way. I wonder how soon this phase will end. When will waking up become the painful process for Leah that it is for most of the people I know?
I lay back and listen, trying to imagine Leah’s pleasure. I had not known, before her birth, how fresh things would look, sound and feel. That is not to say that there aren’t many mornings when I have been awoken at 6:00 am mighty pissed off at losing valued sleep once again, and not at all impressed with the vocalizations of my little baby girl. But, it has been quite an experience trying to see the world through her big brown eyes. On so many levels, it has made me see things I otherwise had ignored or thought of from a different perspective.
I listen for a while, knowing inevitably that the cooing and gurgling will turn into frustration. I imagine Leah saying, “Oh, I’ve been cute long enough! Where is breakfast?” I get up and go to the bathroom. Leah comes to the instantaneous realization that someone is available so she starts to fuss.
Anyway, once my necessities have been taken care of, I go into Leah’s room to find her little face peeking through the bars of the crib. Her joy at seeing me, and realizing that freedom is near, is a wonderful greeting. I love her little face, the way she nuzzles her head into the crook of my neck, while patting me on the back when I lift her from her bed. This is a terrific hug. It is amazing to me that most every time she greets me, she shows so much affection. After a nap, when I pick her up from the babysitter, after she has been playing with her toys for a while, oblivious to me…Did she learn to do that? Is it a natural thing for a person to do? It is incredible to me that, at such a young age, Leah is already so able to express her appreciation, her love. Is it love, though? What is it?
I guess over the years, as children grow up, they must take these little things for granted. I suppose it wouldn’t be natural to be grateful each time you saw your parents, siblings or spouse. Plus, I guess as you get older, there are more reasons NOT to appreciate them! I will try to savor these moments in anticipation of lean years ahead.
My treasure. Really the point of all this exposition is two-fold. One is to share what is in my heart for my daughter and other loved ones. It is to try to paint a picture of a moment in time that, for me, defines love. And, it is to ask a question: Is this what other mothers, wives and daughters feel? Because if they do, it is at once very exciting because what I feel is wonderful and life affirming. It is also frightening because of the intensity of the emotions.
It is apropos that I came upon this the day after the baby shower. I had wanted to say something at the shower, but in the hub-bub and distraction, I didn’t get to. I wanted to wish Dan and Beth the joy, love and pride that I have been privileged to know as a parent. I hope they are as lucky as I have been.
2 thoughts on “Motherhood”
What a beautiful blog and so thoughtful. That has to be 30 years ago.and your writing talent was there from your youth and your early poems. I am so proud of you and love you
Thanks, Mom 🙂