Five years later, it still stuns me how much I love him.
And five years later I still shake my head in wonder at the process of becoming a mother. It is numinous mystery hidden in plain sight. Of course I knew how babies are made and how they arrive, but this miracle was immediate, firsthand. I had a big part in the dance.
Pregnancy was fun and happy, but swirled with emotion and realization. My own body provided the shelter another soul needed to grow strong enough to be here in this world. Flesh of my flesh, yet a separate person. A separate person, yet someone I was powerfully linked to in a relationship and role that was all new to me. Here was a soul with his own journey, but one I was entrusted to nurture. Utterly permanent. Scary. Inspiring.
Forty-one weeks felt long by the end. And then the last few hours was like looking up from my tired, blistered feet to find my marathon dance contest partner transforming into a whirling dervish. Physically, the process was humbling and messy, although in turns exhilarating. Sometimes blindingly painful too. There were moments when I'm not sure I even knew who I was or where I was anymore. Then so close to the true meaning of bliss that it was almost hard to bear. A tiny face breathtakingly beautiful. The first time I looked full on that face, he was calm and quiet and looked me in the eye. Such a steady, peaceful gaze. I've never been the same again.
Five years have come and gone. They say the days are long but the years are short, and I find this is very true. Hard bumps of sleepless nights and worries, but flooded with snuggles and laughter.
It is getting late on a rainy winter night, the eve of my boy's birthday. Tomorrow there will be giggles and cupcakes and the long-promised chaos of a visit to Chuck E Cheese. There will also be coaxed tooth brushings and balkings and rejected veggies. Five years means five spread fingers anytime he is asked how old he is, which is appropriate since any person that age is sometimes a handful. A five year old is a determined, wiggly, exuberant bundle of life. Time to shut out the light to be ready for an action-packed preschooler's birthday. First, though, I have to make sure his covers are tucked in. I have put my cheek against his still-so-soft one in the dark, feel his reassuring sleepy warmth. I have to leave one last kiss for my four-year-old on his forehead, an invisible mark of deep love but also gratitude for the joy he brings.
Oh, I love being his mama.
These five years have been the best of my life.
And you ARE a good mom! It is a blessing to watch you and Brian parent. Eli is a very lucky little boy. Happy birthday, Eli. Well done, mom and dad.
Posted by: Joan Rhoden | 09 December 2013 at 09:29 AM
Lovely, Lovely Post Val. I would bet that when Eli is grown he will look back and on this and say, "I am glad she wrote this with such elegance. I love to read my mother's stories. But I already know this because my mother's love has always been such a constant force in my life. And I love her the same."
Posted by: anjahni | 09 December 2013 at 10:10 AM
Hi Valerie- greetings from Oakland, this is Neal and Leo's mom, we did epworth together so long ago. I have been secretly reading your blog since then :) you have great ideas and I often come here for ideas for outings here. Since we used to live in Atlanta, I am enjoying the new posts as well. Anyway, Leo really wants a camera for Christmas, so I thought I would see if you had a favorite "kids" camera? Maybe you could email me, [email protected] if you have any suggestions? Happy 5 Eli, 5 is wonderful!
Posted by: Heather | 09 December 2013 at 03:46 PM