she just doesn't cry, she wails. She wants me. Only me. Annoyed that she is interrupting my hour of peace before I go to bed I put down the laptop and walk down the hall to get her. I look down at her tiny little frame in her crib, she is sitting up looking around for me, only me. And I am no longer annoyed at this small girl. I gently pick her up. I walk the four feet to my king sized bed and snuggle with her underneath the warm down duvet to protect us from the chill that always seems to linger in our room at night. I offer her my breast, but she doesn't want it. She snuggles into me calming down and her sobs turn into whimpers. She squirms a little as if she is too upset to calm herself down even though I responded to her within a minute of her initial cries. As her tiny frame finally conforms to my body, my arms wrap themselves around her to protect her from whatever woke her from her sweet slumber. Her breathing becomes peaceful as my body provides enough warmth to make a cozy spot for her to finally relax in complete surrender. It was me she wanted, not my milk, just me. And in this moment my heart is full. I am a mommy, a real mommy. And this little girl that has melted into me, who needed me and only me proves it. Her complete trust, her feeling safe only in my arms proves it. It is the most wonderful feeling in the entire world to be loved, to be needed, to be wanted like that. Nothing can compare.
There are small moments I feel complete. I feel normal. There are moments that I feel that it is okay to have the love of those two tiny children that call me mommy. That I am worth their love and affection, well maybe not worth, or even worthy, but it is okay that the world has allowed me to be a mother.
In those small moments I try desperately to push anything but my two children that are under our roof out of my mind. No hurt of - I missed this, or I didn't get to do this with them. But sometimes I can't help it, Sometimes my joy is ruined by my loss. And I am angry. Angry at myself, for letting a wonderful moment be ruined by my inability to cope with my past, with my loss. And I tell myself next time I am going to enjoy my children and not let this all consuming sadness that lingers in my heart also consume their childhood. I'm getting better, but as I get better I find myself building a wall against the past, against the pain that I can't seem to face. I build it against those two precious innocent boys that I haven’t seen in 9 years. I find solace in making them into something not so real, because they are so intangible to me that they are almost a dream.
The thought that entered my mind last night that ruined that wonderful moment? "I know that she isn't the kind of mom that would take my boys back to bed with her and snuggle until their sweet tiny bodies surrendered once again to sleep." And it kills me. My children, are they okay without that? The children under my roof need it - they need to be loved like that, need that affection. It hurts so much that my twins might have missed something only I could give them in order to gain something else that I thought was more important than me. Why couldn't God have worked it out so that I could have picked them up in the middle of the night and given them what they needed? Me and only me. Why couldn't I have been the One? Why couldn't I have been their mommy, their everything?
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I hope when my sweet little Princess wakes up tonight it is all about her. I just want to be her mommy and Bear's mommy too. Not a mommy that aches with longing arms for something that can never be. Because to the Bear and the Princess I am mommy, me and only me - that is real, that is now and I will continue to endeavor to cherish those moments for the rest of my life without the sadness that seems to haunt them.
Friday, January 11, 2008
me, and only me
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5 comments:
Isn't it so interesting that so many of us firstmoms are spread across the world, have never met, and probably never will, and yet, we can have almost identical feelings about our loss. When Susannah wakes up from her nap today and toddles out of her room to find me and be held, I'm going to hold her and hold her and just BE HER MOMMY... Just be the one she wants and be all there for those moments. They are moments that belong to her, and I don't want to steal anything away from her anymore. I want soooooo badly to do this. I pray that I can. The irony is that in order to be all there with her, I have to make the conscious decision to put aside the loss of Ellen for those moments, and that conscious decision usually starts the cycle of pain all over again.
Thank you for your tenderness and vulnerability in writing this. You are so loving with your words. Your children are lucky to have you as their mother! Believe that because it is true.
I pray for N (my daughters first mom) often for this. She doesn't have other children yet, but she will some day. She will feel torn like this. She will have these same concerns. I am not sure what I can do to help support her through that, but thank you for allowing me the opportunity to hear about it.
It's almost too much to read, let alone live.
Beautiful post Bear's mommy. You have me crying over here.
"I know that she isn't the kind of mom that would take my boys back to bed with her and snuggle until their sweet tiny bodies surrendered once again to sleep." And it kills me. My children, are they okay without that?
I know that I could never truly understand, but this one paragraph really hit me.
I'm constantly thinking of who would I want to take care of Maddox if neither Clayton or I were around. I can never come up with a person that would be equal or even less equal, but good enough to take care of my boy.
That really brought tears to my eyes and I feel so much pain for you right now.
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