THIS KIND OF LOVE
Every bump in the road caused me to hold the door handle tighter as my contractions grew stronger. A few short hours later my young 19-year-old self is syphoned into a whirlwind of new experiences. A washcloth is put in my mouth to muffle my expressions of pain and my legs are strapped into stirrups.
“The baby’s heartbeat is dropping,
we have to move fast.”
Pushing, forceps, fear – these were not covered in the prenatal classes. The cry of a tiny soul and the tears of his mother are ignored as he is swept away.
My bed is wheeled to the hallway for a makeshift recovery room. I watch every face as it passes and in a foggy drugged daze I wonder where he has been taken.
Several hours later I hold the most beautiful gift I have ever been given. I understand for the first time this kind of love.
His name is Jeremiah.
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Two years pass-- I wake up to a sharp pain. Grabbing my swollen belly I stand as warm red fear flows down my leg. In a blink, I am on the maternity floor.
There is no heart beat and yet my body contracts in the effort of labor. I am alone in the sterile room as the tiny baby leaves my body.
I squeeze the emergency button calling for help. Stopping at the edge of my bed the doctor puts his arm around my shoulder and says,
“Some ladies take this well and
some have a hard time.”
I am numb… which would I be?
Twenty-four hours click by. I walk by rooms where new moms are snuggling their babies. I hear their newborn cries as I ride the elevator down, empty handed.
I reach to pick up my beautiful toddler. Someone stops me saying,
it’s like you had a baby."
My heart bleeding, I swallow the words I want to shout – I DID HAVE A BABY – His name is Jake.
~ ~ ~
She is an angel. Her round cherub face landing in my life through a sweet, simple birth. The room glows with happiness. The 9 month fear and worry about this pregnancy is now covered with everything soft and pink. She fits in my arms as if she has always been there. Together we are happy and content.
It’s my 22nd birthday and I bring her home. Her name is Sarah.
~ ~ ~
Five years later football is on the television in the birthing room. The process is different from the first time. I’m an expert now, wanting to experience and remember every contraction, every moment of birth, as this will be my last. His eyes twinkle with a warning of who he is… an impish let’s-get-this-party-started boy joins my life. I hold him in fierce protection to keep him in this moment forever.
His name is Jameson.
~ ~ ~
Motherhood arrived for me four times over eight years. In easy and difficult ways.
Jeremiah and Sarah are now grown with children of their own. They are adults with successful resumes, education, and accomplishments.
Jameson hit the world ready to have fun and for a short 22 years brought love to all who knew him. As a toddler, he played endlessly with his imaginary friend, “Jake.” I believe the two were a prearranged team who now watch us from the magical space we all come from and will all return to.
Mothers are celebrated one day a year, but mothers celebrate day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath We celebrate the moment we give birth and every moment we have with the special souls we call children. We cry at preschool graduations and cry when college diplomas are awarded. We celebrate their success and accomplishments and hold pride for how their lives grew. We hurt when they hurt and are painfully scarred if they pass before us.
The title of “Mother” and the gift of motherhood should not be taken lightly. Mothering is not a finite venture. The love we feel for our children is one of powerful connection. Whether they are with us for our lifetime or leave this life ahead of us, the love and connection is of equal strength. We are bound to our children through magical golden cords that are not separated by age, by distance or by death.
Mothers understand THIS kind of love.
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Pennie’s Life Lesson:
“Motherhood should be celebrated day by day, moment by moment, and breath by breath.”
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Pennie Heart to Heart
There is a certain magic about where I live both physically and spiritually – on the crossroads of Spirit and Brave.
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