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.

Pancake Love

I always wanted lots of children. As a child, I wrote stories that included elaborate illustrations of large families. Each child had a special characteristic and multiple drawings depicting them in action. As an adult, both of my children were hard to conceive and were long-awaited, joyful answers to prayer.

When our girl was ten years old, we were thrilled to learn that I was finally pregnant again. She joined in our excitement anticipating the new addition to our family. Mind you, she had been my one and only, had survived a horror of divorce and death of her birth father, rejoiced later in my marriage and thrilled to be adopted by that good guy. In her ten years, this little girl had already experienced another person's lifetime of loss and hope.

As the pregnancy moved along, we found out the new addition was going to be a little brother. I was beyond myself to realize I was going to be blessed to have "one of each".

Our girl also rejoiced as much as a third grader can. She drew us pictures, eagerly came to doctor appointments and earnestly crafted gifts for her soon-to-be-born brother.

In the midst of all the joy and hope, I sensed that something was going on within her. I truly believe God prompted me to ask her about this one day. I was careful and casual, and I must have done something right because the net take-away was that she wondered how I would be able to love her new baby brother without some of my love for her being subdivided.

We had the best chat! I told her that the love God gives everyone just keeps growing. In order to love someone else, nothing is taken away from those we already love. It's like a pile of pancakes. We already had a pile "this high" but with our new little guy coming along, God would pile it even higher.

That turned out to be just what she needed to hear.