Sunlight streams into the living room, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow. Outside, the blue skies are dotted here and there with puffy white clouds. Only a few days ago, the ground was covered by snow, like winter just needed to exert it’s strength one last time before giving up for the year, and conceding the season to spring. All that extra moisture seems to have made the ground more lush, and our lawn is a dazzling green. Here and there in our neighbours’ yards are bursts of colour – a purple crocus, a yellow daffodil, a white bushy tree in full bloom. It’s a beautiful day, and I plan to spend most of it enjoying the outdoors, and the beauty of creation.
But right now, at this moment, there is a baby kicking and squirming in my womb. Little Babe taps lightly in spots, then pushes against the sides of my uterus, maybe trying to make more room before it gives a great big kick. This, for me, is the best part of pregnancy.
It’s Mothers day tomorrow, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it this week. I’ve been thinking about my mom, and going through some great memories of times spent with her. I remember vividly being a little girl of maybe 4 or 5, and getting hugs from my mom. I remember the smell of her perfume, and the feeling of her soft cheek against mine, the pressure of her arms around my body, and the sense of absolute comfort, peace and security that I had in those moments. I remember going for supper together as a teenager and just chatting about life and the future and plans, and the way she would listen so intently to my ramblings. I remember driving all over Ireland together, in my twenties, getting lost in tiny villages, stuck at gas stations, caught in wind storms, and laughing hysterically through it all because we were together, and when we are together, everything is a fun adventure.
And I remember her sitting across this very living room with me, talking for hours, when I was a brand new mama myself and all I did all day, everyday, was sit and breastfeed. As a child my mother was my caretaker, my protector, my provider, my comforter. As an adult, she has been my counselor, my co-adventurer, and my friend.
As I reflect on how blessed I have been to have such a wonderful mother, I have been really trying this week to soak in these moments I have with my kids, because I think that’s what made my mom such a great mom. She took the time to spend with us. She wanted to get to know who we are. She didn’t take the time she had with us for granted.
And so, I have been trying to memorize the texture of Mateo’s hair against my cheek when I sing to him at night, the size and shape of his feet and the sound they make as they thunder across the kitchen floor, the pitch of his voice when he yells “Mama” just to make sure I’m still here (even thought I’m right beside him). I’ve been trying to bask in the warmth of his beautiful smile, to take note of the things that make his eyes sparkle, to listen carefully to his babbling, because he knows what he is saying even when I don’t.
And I have been trying to sit in moments like these, though I am tempted to get going with the day, to take advantage of the sunshine and be doing things – I am choosing instead to cherish this time with this Little Babe, and to ingrain on my heart the feeling of it’s hands and feet kicking and pushing and tapping inside me.
I hope that this is the greatest gift that I can give my mom this Mother’s Day, and everyday – to strive to be for my babies the wonderful mother she has always been to me.
I love you Mom.