You Are My Dream Come True

To My Precious Children, 

There was never a time in my entire life that I did not want to be a Mother.  As a little girl, I would daydream with my dolls, or even my first nieces, about being their Mommy, dressing them up and snuggling them close to me.  As a teen, people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and my answer was without fail, a Mom.  Knowing that I needed a fallback, I went off to college to become a teacher, until of course, I became a Mother.  As a young woman, my heart wondered when my dream of marriage and babies would come true.  Many other people would scoff at the notion that I wanted to be a Mom.  Surely there was more to life than being just a Mom.  Didn't I care about my degree, wealth, a big house, vacations, nights on the town, livin' it up?

Nope.  

Nothing mattered more to me than getting married and having children, because I always believed that God made me for that purpose.  I never once doubted my desires.  And still, at 31 years of age, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was right.  My life has meaning and purpose beyond my titles as Wife and Mother, but this calling, to be your Mother, tops them all.

The day I found out about each of you was a day filled with unquenchable joy.  That God would choose me to be your Mother was entirely humbling.  That He would trust me with your life, both in and outside of the womb, was a bit scary, but again humbling and joyful nonetheless.  

I couldn't (and didn't!) wait to tell everyone about your upcoming arrival.  I couldn't wait until I could hear your heartbeat, feel your fluttery movements, and touch a round belly, knowing you were just on the other side, being formed and growing strong and healthy.

The moment I first laid eyes on you, after the long, hard work of labor was completed, I knew love like I had never known before.  As I held each one of you and caressed your tiny body, as I hushed your crying and brought you to my breast, in me arose such a fierce love...that if ever, ever your life was in jeopardy, for any reason, I would fight to the death to defend you, even if it meant the death of me.  And I would do it without thinking twice.

Because I am your Mother.

Day in and day out, we go about playing, eating, sleeping, laughing, crying, and learning together about how this Mother-Child relationship works.  Some days we nail it!  But, there are other days, days that are long and draining and I wish them to end so that I can rest my weary soul. Even then, on those difficult days, my love for you never fails.  I push forward, I press on, even when it feels like there is nothing left to give.

Because I am your Mother.

As I have the privilege of watching you grow, I want you to know that I can hardly look at you while you're doing what you do, without my eyes getting wet.  I wish that I could stop time in it's tracks, and stay in these moments forever.  

Jak, I watch how you look at the world and wonder what you're thinking about.  You are so intense and full of passion, yet are so sweet that my heart melts on a daily basis when you tell me that you "lub" me.  I stare at you while you stare out the window, taking everything in, not missing a beat.  I watch you while you play, with your long, slender fingers gently putting puzzle pieces together, or while you run your laps with such wonder around the garage, as if every lap is a new one, worthy of the hearty giggle you give when we lock eyes as you round the corner.  As I tuck you in at night and find the "cags" on each of your teddies, I marvel at how much like your Daddy you are.  Everything has to be done like it's always been done, no matter what.  No finding the "cags" before you're "cucked in", I have to wait until all the covers are on before teddies and prayers, otherwise we have to start all over again from the beginning.  And this, I'm now learning, is how you are wired.  And I'm also learning to appreciate it.

John, I think that I underestimated your sweetness when you arrived.  Every day with you brings out more sweetness than I thought possible, and at the same time you are clearly showing me you are all boy with each new discovery you master!  Your round cheeks and toothy grin send me reeling, and I love to run my fingers through your baby-fine, floppy hair.  I can't get enough of your snuggles and your giggles whenever I do something silly.  You truly are the easiest baby around.  I feel as if I didn't savor the precious time with you early on, but instead just tried to survive the days as best I could.  I'm sorry for that.  I wish that I could go back to those days, but I know I can't.  So,  I savor today.  I savor your soft skin and your baby breath and the fact that you still want me more than anything else, except maybe your bottle or Daddy if he's around.  All too soon, you will be taking those first few steps, steps of independence, steps away from me.

It's only been two and a half years since I became a Mother, so I'm still pretty new at this.  Some day, I'll be much older and you'll be adults too, and the majority of my Mothering will be behind me.  You will no longer come to me and ask "Why?", no longer need a kiss on a boo-boo, not need a bottle or to simply ask me for some fishies. There will be no tiny arms squeezing my neck or tired boys sitting on my lap at the end of a day to read books.  I cry even now, writing this, but I know this is the plan.  It's always been the plan.  You are not mine.  You are only on loan.  I have to keep reminding myself this.  

But I, I am your Mother.  And will always be.

Thank You for making me what I've always wanted to be:  

Your Mother.

"Where did I come from?" the baby asked its mother. She answered, half-crying, half-laughing, and clasping the baby to her breast, "You were hidden in my heart as its desire, my darling. You were in the dolls of my childhood games. In all my hopes and my loves, in my life, in the life of my mother, and in her mother before her, you have lived. In the lap of the eternal spirit you have been nursed and nurtured for ages."
-Indian philosopher and poet, Rabindrandth Tagore