I feel like I’m in the backseat of a speeding car that I have absolutely no control over. I’m looking out the window, and barely seeing the scenery that is changing and zooming by. Suddenly, a breath-taking field of flowers appears, and I nudge the person beside me so they can share in the fleeting beauty as well. But by the time they twist their eyes to look, the field has dissappeared, only to be replaced by even more lovely views.
Watching your children grow up feels just like that.
At 2:04 am on Sunday, May 4, 2008, I was in the hospital giving birth to my first son, Jack-Evan. And now, today, I will be mailing off the last of his 1st birthday invitations.
We’re having his party -an old fashioned family grill out- at our house, in the large patio in the far back corner of our lot. It’s something I’ve dreamed of doing since we purchased this place shortly before we married – watching our future kids grow up and celebrating life and birthdays in that patio. That was long before Jack-Evan was even thought of, but now the time has come at last. We have his party planned, music picked out, yard cleaned, guests invited, and the menu prepared. Decorations and paper products have even been purchased (thanks to our wonderful, sweet, thoughtful Aunt Bev in New York!). In less than two weeks, we will be singing the traditional Happy Birthday song to Jack.
So why do I feel so sniffly inside?
Watching a child that you’ve given birth to grow and change and accomplish milestones is the most remarkable thing in the world. To sit and know that that little tiny human being with the runny nose, dirty knees, bright eyes, and uninhibited giggle was once a small cell inside of you is earth shattering. To realize that one day when his 70 year old body, eyes, and teeth are failing, he will still remember you as “Mom”, is earth shattering.
To be a mom, period, is earth shattering. (Men think they rule the world – but they must stop to ponder that if it wasn’t for us ladies sheltering their tiny selves in our bodies in the first place, they’d by in quite a mess.)
My entire life, I had feared the moment of labor. The foreknowledge of intense pain scared me out of my wits! Let it be known here and now: I do not handle pain well.
Even through the moments leading up to his birth, I still greatly feared the pain. Being the pain-wussy that I am, I gladly accepted pain killers and an epidural – but just as my luck runs, I believe the epidural skipped town just so it could mock me. Five minutes into actual pushing, I cried out that I had decided I couldn’t do it afterall, I had changed my mind, so could we please stop?! The pain at the actual crowning was so extreme that I felt as if I had ripped in two. And without sugar coating, I’ll say that I also felt like I had dipped down into the firey pits of hell. Yes, it actually was that intensely painful.
But you know what? The very instant he was out, all 19 purple inches of him lying there on the table, the pain immediately vanished and was replaced with a calming peace. It was over, and I realized it was all worth it. After he was cleaned up (he had to be suctioned for meconium) and handed to me, my heart burst with such love and pride for him that I doubted I had room for any more love to grow.
But yet it has grown immensely.
Each day, from the moment he wakes up till the last moment when he drifts off to sleep with his little hand absentmindedly rubbing his hair, my love for him grows. And each day, he does something that melts my heart once again, and I think maybe, just maybe, this is now the pinnacle of love.
Yet each day, once again, I am proven wrong. Somehow…somehow… I dare to say, I love him more now than the day he was born. How is that possible? To what fullness is the human heart capable of loving? Is there ever any cap? Is there ever any limit? I’m coming to believe there is none.
The height to which the heart is capable of loving is only capped by our finite mind’s inability to look into the future.
My little poopiehead (or “Tooter”, a name which he earned himself by laughing every time he toots) is now exiting his baby days and beginning his trek through toddlerhood.
And I feel like this magnificent present that I have given life to has only just begun to be unwrapped.
