In many ways, I cannot believe I am a mother. These tiny creatures arrive, and all of the sudden you are responsible for a human life. It can be overwhelming, but there is no doubt that being their mother was the most important thing I have ever done.
They grow up, and that is both exhilarating and frightening. Randy and I were never parents who said, “I can’t wait for them to leave and go to college.” We would have been happy if they’d stayed teens, or preteens, it was, to quote David Copperfield, the best of times and the worst of times.
Randy’s illness was the most challenging part of our lives…we will celebrate his 3 year double lung transplant anniversary in September 2016! And our family has grown, we have a new daughter in law and a new son in law…not to mention all of the canine and feline “grandanimals”!
I am happy to see them grown up and starting lives of their own. It is as it should be. I have to confess, though, that I miss the noisy house, the chaos of having kids all over the place, the scent of baby powder, and the laughter of a baby. I used to think my parents were crazy when they talked about how fast it went…but I understand now. It seems that it went too fast, but I savored my time with them, and those memories will always be there.
The days of receiving dandelions and homemade cards are over for me, but my children will have that experience at some point in their lives, and that makes me happy. I hope they enjoy their children as much as I enjoyed them. Other mothers will know what I mean when I say these two young adult children of mine carry my heart with them always.
How sentimental I have become! I’m almost in tears. It’s time to get up and shake it off! But before I do, I want to share a poem that I read when my kids were little, and the last lines of it linger in memory…I took the advice from this poem and I am so grateful I did. It has made all the difference.
…The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
Because children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton