If you were to ask me what my greatest joy was in life, I would not have to hesitate a second with my reply. Being a mother and, eventually, a grandmother, without a doubt. My family has always been the most important thing in the world to me, but I really didn't understand the magnitude of what my parents gave to me until I became a mother.
The love you feel instantly for a child that comes into your life, is in a stratosphere of it's own. I am blessed to have become a mom in nearly every way humanly possible. I met, and, eventually married, a man with a three year-old and six year-old. Although I remember the enthusiastic anticipation I felt about being a part of their lives, I can only imagine what those sweet children were feeling when I was sprung on them after their dad's divorce.
I remember their first visit to my apartment and how baffling the whole situation must have been for them. I felt such attachment to them immediately and marrying this man became ever so much more exciting with the prospect of having these kids in my life.
I feel lucky that I got to become a step-parent first, although I despise that term. These were my first kids. This is when I became a mother for the very first time. I have adored these two since they were young, and I adore them even more now that they are adults and we are all the same age.
Their dad and I waited 4 years to have a child so that these two could be the center of our universe without any distractions. When I look at the photos of all the things we did, the four of us... I relive those special times in my head. I have to give kudos to their biological mom who let the kids follow their instincts and call me mommy from the beginning.
When I got pregnant and then had a child, it was my first experience having a tiny baby to cuddle in my arms. Although I was completely in love with this little angel and would do anything for her, I found that only the love part of mothering comes naturally. I was so nervous about doing everything perfectly, I even took the bassinet into the bathroom when I took a shower in the beginning. I checked her breathing every other minute and never left her side. As it turns out, she probably would have been safer if I had just left her alone.
“Every young mother does something by accident and has a story to tell, but doesn't.”
After she had been home for about a week, I decided it was time to give her a real bath in her little pink baby tub. I read the section in the baby care book about the "first bath" and ceremoniously laid out the tiny washcloth, the baby soap and the hooded ducky towel to wrap her in. I prepared the water to the perfect temperature and with the book still open to the bath page, I held my bundle of joy with both hands, kissed her sweet face for assurance and then lowered her into the water. She gave me that "back in the womb" look of happiness as I cradled her with one hand and washed her gently from nose to toes. Following the instructions, I then rolled her over and cradled her front mid-section as I washed her back and bottom. It all felt so nurturing and loving to both of us, and it wasn't until I heard a gurgling noise and saw bubbles that I realized that I wasn't holding her up high enough to keep her face out of the water. I was so horrified at my ineptness and my baby's near drowning that I gathered her up in the towel and sobbed as I watched this poor trusting little soul snort water out of her tiny nose. I ran to the phone hysterically and called my mother. I told her to get in the car and come and get the baby before Children's Services came and whisked her away. My mom laughed and assured me that babies are very resilient and I had done her no harm. She claimed that every young mother does something by accident and has a story to tell, but doesn't. I felt better and decided to keep my daughter for a little longer. It went pretty well.
A few months later, I got one of those fabric baby carriers that are like being pregnant on the outside. You can go about much of your daily routine with the baby strapped to your front. This worked out for the most part, except when I would misjudge doorways and whack her little feet as I was passing through or the time I was brushing my hair and dropped the hair brush on her head. I am glad to report that no permanent damage was done to my little infant while I was in baby training. She grew up to be healthy and very smart. She's also a great dancer, so the repeated door jamb smacks to her feet did no harm.
I came to the great realization that I love being a mother, but my maternal instincts run so deep that I really don't have to hatch these young-uns myself to be a mom. My next three kids were all adopted. The decision was easy when I learned that once a child becomes two years old, they fall into the hard-to-adopt category. It seems that people want newborns, except me. Besides the fact that I wasn't particularly spectacular at infants, I liked the idea of giving a little person a better life. I always have love to give. The first sweet thing was three and a half when we got her, the second one two and a half and the last one was 16. Yes, 16. Am I crazy? Yes. Thank you for asking.
My children are my world and I feel as though I have led a charmed life as the mother of six. My first two children were a lottery win, my third one was a miracle, and my last three were blessings too profound to describe. I am not saying that mothering this brood was always easy, but it was always worth the sleepless nights, the worry, the financial strain, and the endless effort.
To all you mothers (and grandmothers) out there, have a beautiful Mother's Day. We are truly the queens of the universe and it is our day to reign supreme. Speaking of reigning, that reminds me, I actually own a gorgeous pageant crown (are you surprised?) and I think I will wear it on Sunday. Rhinestones go with yoga pants, right? I do want to be comfortable.
