I had planned to work on and finish this post last Sunday (Mother’s Day), and get it published the next day, but instead, I spent the day as a mother should on such a day, and that is with my family. Consequently, I was thinking about just nixing this one, but I began revising and decided to go ahead and post it. These are but some brief moments I recall of being a mother. Being a mother doesn’t happen just one day a year, so here are some of my memories and special moments of…
Being a Mother
As babies so sweet, beautiful, and needing their Momma.
Those quiet moments early in the morning. Holding them so tight and seeing hope for the future.
The older sister loving the younger one.
The beautiful self-crushing love that comes with being a mother and wanting your girls to be happy, safe, loved.
When you try your best but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse*
The three of us lounging on my bed (sometimes four or five of us if girlfriends were there) and just talking, laughing, relaxing, enjoying the company.
Living in our quiet house and sharing our love.
Spending every holiday celebration surrounded by family.
When family trips of fun, games, and rides around Birch Lake, Minnesota brought us closer together as we also said goodbye to John, cried, and celebrated his life.
The trips to Clemson, Charleston, Folly Beach, Beaufort, and Savannah.
Our girl trips to New York, Nashville, Dallas, and Branson.
And then…
How my heart ached when the girls would have to leave to go to Colorado every summer for two weeks. Or when they would have to be gone on the weekends, and of just not knowing. And I’m sorry for that.
Resting my hand on her that entire night, wishing so much that I could take her pain.
Of hoping and praying that being home again would help her mourn and grieve and begin to heal as she searched for herself and the why.
Wanting so much to take that pain away from both of them. To make it magically disappear.
Seeing their sadness and pain in losing their Papa and Granny, two people who had been present their entire lives and now they would have to live on without them yet helping me to grieve at the same time.
When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you*
As We Grow
Being so thankful that my husband gave them his name and his love for all the days to come.
So proud of the women my girls have become.
In awe of the Mother she has become.
High up above or down below
When you’re too in love to let it go
If you never try you’ll never know
Just what you’re worth*
So very thankful they still want to spend time with their Mom.
Seeing them happy, content, healthy, and whole in every way is the dream and desire of a mother in love with her children.
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from all my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you*
As a Mother Now…
Holding my grandson, Everette, rocking him to sleep, talking softly to him, telling him that Mimi will love him all the days of his life, that Pepaw will love him all the days of his life, that his Momma and Daddy will love him all the days of his life, and every person I could think of at the time, as he looked at me with drooping eyes, slowing blinking, and then fading off to sleep.
Thanking Daddy for being Everette’s guardian angel. And looking at John Everette’s sweet face and seeing my daughter in him and his great-grandpa (Papaw), and loving him so much that I think my heart will burst.
Motherhood
That is the beauty and heartache and pain and joy of being a mother.
Above all, wanting to bear and fix everything for them yet knowing they have to go and grow and learn some things on their own.
What a marvelously difficult and joyous person to be – a mother.
*Song and Lyrics by Coldplay – “Fix You”
Lighthouse Photo by Evgeni Tcherkasski on Unsplash