So here it is, stolen and ready to be in my "blog book" someday.
(below is Reagan being poked and prodded, poor thing)
I have seen it begin a few times. And each has been profound. I was 20 the first time. Big-eyed at BYU, dreaming of all the possibilities Ahead. And I know it was incredibly non-BYU-ish of me, but marriage & children were not the primary landmarks on that vista. October of my 3rd year, and I flew home to Arizona. My JoDee was having her first baby. Cyndee & I spent hours pacing the hospital halls. Taking turns visiting Jo. And when Andersyn finally made her way into the world, I became a different person. A dramatic statement, perhaps, but it really was true. I looked at this entirely dependent, wide-eyed babe, something clicked, clarity came and I saw the world in its simplest beauty. Knowing innately that this was what life was all about. Not classes and papers and study abroad and internships.
We are perfected through our relationships. I knew then & there that only as a Mother would I be able to shed enough of my selfish self to progress and grow. Only through Loving another human heart & soul.
Since then, I’ve been bedside to a laboring Gina, Megan and Mandi. I love all of these women. They are my sisters and my best friends. Of course, there was the unforgiveable moment during Megan’s first birth when Mandi fainted because she hadn’t eaten all day. The doctors made us both leave. The consolation prize was sitting in the corridor sipping apple juice & crunching crackers. (I only forgave Mandi when she meekly held my throw-up container as I dry heaved my way through birthing Aidan. That kind of service can wipe away just about any wrong!)
A few weeks ago I felt blessed again as I watched Miss Reagan meet the world. The poor girl was as shell-shocked as any veteran of war. It struck me that these babies really are torn from the most comfortable crib in creation…straight into bright lights, cold air, and plenty of noise. But I love how she finally calmed. Nurses were cleaning, measuring, poking, prodding. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and even attempted to comfort her with words and a warm hand, but she cried on. Until Nate came over and spoke. She instantly calmed, straining…listening. This minutes old baby definitely knew the sound of her dad. She’ll learn Aunt Amy over time, but it was beyond sweet to witness that little moment…the first of many that will melt my heart, no doubt.I’m grateful for Birth...Life..and the opportunity to witness its pain & joy from a different perspective.