You know how they say that when you are sick you really just want your mom? It's true... I remember being in labor with June and my epidural failing and feeling awful and being in so much pain and experiencing the unknown and just wanting my mom. She was on her way, but wasn't there yet. I didn't want Jim. I didn't want to be in labor. I wanted my mom. And she came. It was the reassurance I needed. Labor still was as labor is, but I felt safer with her just there. There is something inborn about your mom's ability to protect and comfort you, especially in a new or scary situation. I have known that I'm a mom for, well, seven whole years now and I'm a mom to four different people. I know. I was there to watch my belly swell and them ultimately emerge. I'm their mom. I know that. I provide for them and take care of them and do all the day to day tasks. I fill out their forms and take them to their appointments. I dress them, feed them, and love them... because that's my job as their mom.
But it never quite clicked that I too possess the mom power. I am mom. I mentioned in my last (so gross) post that when Emily got sick, she was scared. I called for Jim to help me while I disassembled her bed and her clothes and got her cleaned up. He came and held her and stayed with her while I got new supplies -see below- and put her stuff in the wash.
(In my linen closet I have a stack of supplies prepped for this occasion. It's become a mama-must-have. That stack contains bed pads, which I use over pillows and the upper part of their beds to protect the actual bedding, and bowls. I have disposable bed pads which are BRILLIANT for the 0-2 crowd who tend to, um, miss. They even STICK to the bed. I don't think I could love these more. I also have reusable bed pads for the older but-not-old-enough-to-get-to-the-potty crew, and barf bowls: low sides, large size. I also have a large water proof mattress pad that is for the couches for daytime lounging. I don't necessarily "like" that corner of my closet, but when the time comes, it's very handy.)
Anyway, while I was going in and out of her room gather supplies and taking wash downstairs (laundry detergent with bleach is always on hand... I don't trust my "free and clear" in these times), Jim would sit with her and he said when I would leave she would instantly look worried and start to whimper and be unsettled until I came back in the room. Once I was there she was calm and would relax. She obviously trusts Jim, but there is something unique and special about the mama.
It's a power.
I possess a power.
Kinda cool if you think about it.
I've seen it with her teeth hurting too... she can be a mess and be crying, but when I scoop her up, her world heals. She melts into my shoulder and calms. All the kids have this to varying degrees and it morphs it's presentation at each age-stage, but it's so crystal clear with a baby because they have no boundaries, no walls... you see how they feel and the mama is so vitally important. It really is amazing to gain the realization that me.. my presence alone... is a comfort to them.
My ability to put them at ease and help when things are wrong in their little worlds is an amazing thing. It's humbling too, because I feel pretty imperfect myself and not apt to be able to comfort and help and heal and mean so much to someone else. It's a God-given gift and it comes completely naturally... I don't DO things or wrack my brain in these times. I don't try to fix anything. The things they need are the things that come naturally, without thought or planning... scooping up the baby and holding her, sitting with June when he is upset, extra hugs, stroking hair, and ultimately just being present with them. It lets them know they aren't alone and can bear this with someone along side them. That is a comfort. I am that comfort.
That's amazing.
1 comment:
I LOVE this, Susie!
It's so true. I remember my Nana saying to me when she was having a particularly bad and debilitating day with her arthritis, "it doesn't matter how old you are; when you're sick you just want your mother." She was in her seventies at the time, and her mother had been gone for decades, but she still wished her mom had been there to comfort her.
Now, I'm going to wipe away my tears and get some work done around the house. :)
Post a Comment