April 17, 2012
Sweetest Noah Boy,
You smiled up at me today from
your car seat, perched in the back of a shopping cart at Target, and I couldn’t
breathe for a moment. I couldn’t
breathe and I couldn’t move. This happens to me sometimes, when your eyes fill
with that utter adoration and contentment, that expression of complete devotion
and total trust—like I am the most perfect being on the planet, like there is nowhere
you would rather be than shopping at Target with your Mama.
Something in my soul stirs when
you look at me like that. I can’t breathe because I know that I am so
undeserving of such pure and guileless love. I can’t move because I already feel the moment flying away,
and I long to grab it—to clutch it tightly in my fist and press it deeply into
my pounding heart. I look at your
innocent little face, beaming up at me with two tiny teeth poking through the
gums, and I know that I will do anything—anything—to protect you and your heartbreaking sweetness.
I never knew love like this until I became your mother.
I love your pensive expressions, your chubby hands reaching
for my finger, and your frantic splashing in the bathtub. I love your wild blonde hair, your
delicious thighs, and your fascination with the blow dryer as it hums in my
hands. I love the way you hide
your face in the couch cushions when we are playing and the way you pant with
such exertion when you are reaching for a favorite toy or trying out a new
skill.
I love seeing you with your dad and knowing, in that most
tender and sacred place in my heart, that despite all my shortcomings, you are
both mine--and you both love me so completely.
I love your dinosaur noises during church and your
spontaneous chuckle of approval when you are lounging in your car seat
“throne.” I love your little feet,
kicking constantly while you are in your high chair or in your stroller taking
an evening walk with Mom and Dad. I love resting my head on your soft hair as
you drink your bottle in my arms, feeling your weight and your warmth against
my chest, knowing that you are real.
I love that my heart now lives outside of my body, and that
I get to watch it growing and grinning and learning. It feels miraculous and vulnerable, exhilarating yet
imprudent--to let my heart learn to walk, inching its way along the furniture,
falling occasionally and sprawling across the carpet, bewildered.
Soon, you will be running. The baby with the adoring blue
eyes will run, and I will let you—my heart growing bigger and stronger with
each of your strides.
It was there inside of me all along—instinctive and
unconditional—and yet I didn’t know it until I held you for the first
time. Staring into those deep blue
eyes, those eyes that were just seeing the world for the first time, I couldn’t
breathe and I couldn’t move. I
felt the stirring of something emerging, something swelling and coming alive
within my heart—
A mother’s love.
Mama
This reminds me of poem (can't think of the author, although it could be Carol Lynn Pearson maybe?) or quote.
ReplyDeleteOkay, a quick Google search turned up Elizabeth Stone. According to Goodreads she said, “Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”
Beautifully expressed, Rachel! You make me baby hungry!!! :D
Absolutely perfect. You have such a gift with words!
ReplyDeleteRach! I have never been so jealous of your amazing writing abilities (though I have always greatly admired them) ... you just put into words so perfectly what is so hard to actually express! So beautiful. I love it.
ReplyDeleteI have felt that, and feel that often looking at my babies. Thank you for putting it into words! So happy you are experiencing this!
ReplyDeleteIt's my favorite part of motherhood...experiencing a depth of feeling you would never have been able to access in any other way. Yes, you have a gift and are a gift!
ReplyDelete