The Day That Changes Everything

Yesterday we got the wonderful news that our daughter's BFF from high school safely delivered her first baby - a beautiful, cuddly baby boy. She posted on FB that he looked just like his papa (he does) and that "mama is in loooooooove." I've been praying for them during the pregnancy and finding out that he's here on the outside got me eagerly thinking about her new life. At 4:11 a.m. yesterday, everything changed for her.

Today is the celebration of the day that changed everything for me. At 8:40 a.m. on June 3, 1985 my daughter was born. In just a few minutes (she came via C-section), I went from mother-to-be to mother. After finding out she had all her fingers and toes, I just lay there crying quietly in greatful awe. She had made me a mother. I was someone's mother! I had a baby - a baby!! A sense of wonder and peace washed over me. Joy unlike anything I had ever known encircled me and whispered to my heart. My dream had come true.

Her second morning, I held her gently close, nestled in my arms. I closed my eyes and breathed in her sweet scent. I remember trying to memorize every detail of that moment to cherish forever. I always wanted to feel that glow.

The firsts were all conducted in a haze of amazement. The first time I diapered her I was all thumbs. The first time I bathed her I needed two nurses to guide me. Pulling on her little onsie gently so I wouldn't hurt her little arms. The first time I buckled her in the carseat. Thankfully I wasn't driving because I just had to sit next to her and gaze upon this lovely little person. The first time I walked her from the car into the house. Slowly, slowly. One short step at a time. And the first time I tried to nurse her...wondering if things were even working. The first time I heard her voice and anxiously poked and checked to see what she needed. The first time she kept me up all night changing sheets and diapers over and over I was actually thrilled to be there with her. Washing all the sleepers she owned was my pleasure. My lack of confidence at all of the newness kept me in awe for a good couple of weeks.

I remember laying in bed looking out at the late spring sky become dawn and smiling that I had nothing more important to do than cuddle and care for the little girl in the next room. Each morning seemed a little brighter since she had made her entrance. Days passed simply and comfortably. (I later learned that we had what people call a "good baby" - she began sleeping through the night at 10 days.)

Quickly I learned was that I didn't do anything alone anymore. She was in her baby seat in the bathroom with me or across the room from me in the kitchen. She rode in the car with all of her accoutraments with me. There was no more running quickly anywhere. Pay at the pump was not an option, she was unbuckled and carried inside the gas station when I paid. I was not number one in any way any longer, I was delighted to find I was number "last". Everything about her was radiantly more important than anything about me. After her needs had been met, I could get that glass of water. It surprised me that I didn't mind the radical shift of my importance, it was a natural part of this new life.

I didn't know what the future would bring, I was just eager to experience it's majesty with her. Within weeks I was already packing away sleepers she had outgrown. Soon she was really smiling and cooing and kicking her feet in excitement. Slowly I moved from awkward moves to confident grasps of who she was and how to do things. The newness ebbed into a comfortable way of life. I was "getting it" and having the most fun I'd ever had. Every day I thanked God for allowing me the honor to be the mother of this very little one.

Now our dear family friend is going to go through her new changes as she experiences life afresh with her precious baby. Congratulations new mother, and Happy Birthday to my girl. It doesn't stop being wonderful. And it goes by all too fast.

Rejoicing in Birth-Days

God has blessed me with two healthy children. It took some time to "get" each one, and they ended up 10 years apart. Each time these precious newborn bundles were placed in my arms, I was thrilled to my soul that I "got to be a mommie." I distinctly remember praying in my heart and cherishing those first moments with our baby "on the outside" of my body. I had loved them in my womb and now I could gaze into their faces!

When my baby girl was born, I remember closing my eyes and holding her and thanking God for her safe arrival. I also remember asking Him to keep that exact moment of awe and thanksgiving alive in me forever. When her brother arrived a decade later, my prayer was the same.

So... much like that popular children's book that makes you cry, each year on their birthday, I set my alarm to wake up a few minutes before the actual birth time. (Being a night owl and having two morning births, this really says a lot.) I crept into their rooms, scooped my sleeping baby in my arms and squeezed my eyes tight. Holding them close, I remembered that incredible moment they first came into my arms and tearfully thanked God again. Sometimes they woke up, sometimes they were crabby. Sometimes they even murmured "I love you Mommie." It didn't matter what their reactions were - celebrating their birth was my heart's thrill. (And still is.)

I have come a long way from that first time mom who made personalized stuffed animals for her one-year-old daughter's first birthday guest gifts. Yes, each duckie had an embroidered pink or blue bib complete with the name of the attendee.
Before I learned my lesson, for her fourth birthday I invited the entire neighborhood (parents and siblings included) to celebrate along with me and a huge Costco hotdog receipt.

Along the way, I cooled off a bit and then met a mom who inspired me to have parties every other year. That took the pressure off, especially with one December birthday. For the party years, we hosted a party. (Just no more pony rides.) For the non-party years, we had our kids pick one guest to do one thing. Sometimes the thing was at our home - like pedicures and a bubble bath. Sometimes, the thing was a movie or ski date. Either way, the birth day was celebrated with the family. Our kids learned to look forward to both methods of celebration and we got to keep it real.