I'm turning 50 in October. (I'll pause while the clapping subsides.) My children have left my nest and gone to a far off land (Texas). For some reason, these two events have culminated in an urge to memorialize my journey of motherhood, in case I forget. Because I'm almost 50. These memories will be in random order, as the majority of my memories are these days. Because I'm almost 50.
* I remember...that I didn't want to leave the hospital after my daughter was born, because it meant I would be responsible for this very little person. Plants do not live long in my house, so I was rather skeptical about my daughter's chances. Fortunately, very small people are much hardier than plants.
* I remember...the sensation of a child kicking in my stomach, and never feeling like more of a woman, before or since.
* I remember...the smell of my baby's neck...possibly the sweetest smell on earth.
* I remember...cuddling with my son, knowing how sad I would be when the day came when he would no longer need me that way. The day came and went. I was right.
* I remember...somewhere along the way I developed my "calm voice", because it was the only voice my highly emotional and dramatic daughter would respond to. It usually worked, but not always. I would then revert to yelling, which rarely worked, but usually resulted in a moment of satisfaction at the stunned, almost frightened look on her face. A brief moment, that I cherished.
* I remember...singing both of my kids to sleep with "Puff the Magic Dragon", of which I only knew one verse, and I'm not even sure I had the words right. I sang that one verse over and over. They didn't care. Sometimes, to ease the ache, I find myself humming that familiar tune.
* I remember...my daughter's inability to go ask for more ketchup when we were at a fast food restaurant, so my son (3 years younger) did it for her. She's much braver now.
* I remember...the sound of my son's world from the moment he woke up until he fell asleep again. Never ending sounds of cars, trucks, trains and planes as he made his matchbox vehicles come to life, complete with crashing sounds (because what's the point of a car that doesn't crash?). The sounds are faint now, but still there.
* I remember...longing for a quiet house, and now hating that quiet.
* I remember...the sound of their friends...girls upstairs in my daughter's room, giggling, squealing, whispering. Boys downstairs...yelling, laughing, eating (never whispering). Me, sitting in the dining room at the computer, smiling at the sounds of life in my house.
* I remember...the knot in my stomach (that has never quite gone away) that arrived at the same time as the first driver's license.
* I remember...a cold rag always made them feel better when they were sick or hurt. They didn't know that it was all I knew to do for them.
* I remember...getting up in the middle of the night, going into their room and watching them sleep. They were teenagers. The wonder of it never left.
* I remember...the day each of them left home, waiting until they were gone to have my emotional breakdown because I needed them to leave without guilt.
* I remember...my son's sick-to-his-stomach excitement on Christmas Eve. Last year. He was 20.
* I remember...the almost overwhelming excitement of my kids' stepping into their future as adults, at the same time feeling just as overwhelmed with sadness that they were stepping out of their past, on their own, without me.
* I remember...that my kids are healthy, strong, brave, and have hearts that are running hard after God. And then I remember that He was there through it all...loving them, protecting them, and making sure they didn't go the way of so many houseplants.
There's so much more. So many moments, sounds, smells that come upon me out of nowhere. Sometimes I smile, sometimes I cry, and sometimes I tell God I'm sorry.
But mostly, I thank God that I remember. Because I'm almost 50.
4 comments:
Love it!!
Wow. You have me crying at my desk. Luckily I'm hidden in a cave :)
I have memories too...and albeit quite different from yours, just as cherised. I try not to think of the life I dealt my children, I pray that thier memories are overshadowed by the 'change' in my life that brought Christ into focus for them and for me. When my son was @ 5 he decided to 'make electricity' with an old car battery, and nearly burned the nieghbors house down. He 'fessed up, he always did. The memories of Melanie in and out of hospitals from day 1, 13 surgeries before she was 13, kidney transplant at 13, and subsequent failure putting her back on dialysis...the joy she felt at meeting her "Angel" her husband only to find out it was not without pain and dissappointment and heartbreak... remembering the drama and heartbreaks and my lack of skill as a mother..only brings me back to Gods grace and mercy that my children survived at all. No, my memories are not like June Cleaver, more like Joan Crawford and Groucho Marx, without Groucho. But unlike you, who did it 'right', I live with the guilt everyday that had I made better choices, my memories could have been very similar to yours. My son would have been better equipped to make choices in his young life that would have kept him out of prison, my daughter would have been better equipped at choosing a lifelong mate instead of being decieved by promises of a lifetime with a man who only wanted to care for her, only to find out he just wanted out of child support for his adopted son with his first wife. No, I did not train my children up in the admonishment of the Lord, but in the fog of survival at all costs. Now I live with memories alright, and I struggle everyday with the forgiveness I have been given but it doesn't change the results of my actions. I am reaping the harvest that I have sown, and with God's mercy, I pray it will be a new harvest for His kingdom before it's too late.
I remember your calm voice! and it was pretty scary when you yelled because you almost never did. Also, I remember not wanting to get the ketchup. It was at Ikea, which is a pretty scary place, even for grownups. I love you.
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