The Love of a Mother

Dear Evie,

This morning, you woke me up at 5:45 am, crying.  You did not go back to sleep, even though I rocked you, swayed with you, bounced you, hummed to you, and even let you sleep in bed with us.  This is the earliest you've woken up on our whole trip (we are still in Oregon because today was your Grampa Mayne's funeral).  You demanded an enormous breakfast, insisted on walking around the house if I would hold your fingers, and fought me while I tried to put your dress on you.  You were, frankly, pretty darn fussy this morning.

And then you went with your great-great Aunt Donna and great-great Uncle Roger (who are only your grandparents' age, even though they are of the "older" generation) while your Daddy and I went to pick up Grampa Greg from the nursing home.  I thought about you and missed you on our drive over to pick up your Grampa, even though I would be seeing you in just 45 minutes or so.  When we got to the church where the memorial for Grampa was, you were fast asleep in Donna and Roger's car.  As soon as I was done helping with Grampa, I went to get you out of the car and carried you into the church.  You woke up and were squirmy, but you were also very playful.  You wanted to wave at the ladies who were leading the singing.  You wanted to get down and crawl.  So I went to the back of the church, and let you crawl.  Then you wanted to crawl in the lobby.  Then you wanted to crawl outside, and of course I couldn't let you do that.  Then you got mad at me for carrying you outside and holding you instead of letting you crawl around.

Then, the preacher's wife offered to take you to the nursery for me.  I had a moment of mommy-panic.  I knew I needed to be in the church to be near your Daddy during the service.  But I'd never met this woman before.  I saw the nursery and it seemed safe enough, so I left you.  But on my walk back into the sanctuary I thought, what if that woman abducts Evie?  What if she lets her put something in her mouth and doesn't know how to do CPR?  But mostly, what if that woman abducts Evie?  Maybe every mom feels that way when they leave their babies with strangers who are probably perfectly trust-worthy.  Or maybe I'm just neurotic.  But either way, I had to talk myself down from going to check on you, and felt such relief when, 10 minutes later, I heard your little voice ring through the air.

You see, even though you woke me up really early and were kind of fussy and a little bossy, there isn't anything you could do that would make me love you even a little bit less, or worry about you even a fraction of a percent less.  When you cry, I want to cry.  When you are happy, I am happiest.  And I thought about the idea of a mother's love a lot today, on my first Mother's Day.

While it is my first Mother's Day as a mom, it is your Granna's first Mother's Day without her mom.  I wish that your life and Memmaw's life had overlapped so much more.  I wish you could have known her longer.  I know she was ready; she told us so.  But I can't help but think about how hard today must have been for your Granna and your great-uncles and -aunts.  And all your other relatives who've lost their mommies, some of them way, way too early.  Facebook (which may be an archaic idea by the time you're old enough to read this) showed your Granna, great-uncles and -aunts remembering Memmaw in lots of ways.  Pictures of her, pictures of flowers that reminded them of her, words of mourning, words of love...  You can tell what a big impression Memmaw made on each of them and the loss the must have felt today.  They all give Memmaw (and Pappaw) credit for their own parenting styles, for wonderful memories, for words of comfort, for examples of faith.  This is the love that children have for a mother who puts her kids before herself.

I saw that expression of unselfish love today at your Grampa Mayne's funeral.  Your Grampa Greg is taking the loss of his father very hard.  Grampa Greg, as you know, lives in a nursing home because of the advanced stage of MS he has, and he didn't get to see Grampa Mayne much in the last few years.  I don't know exactly how your Grampa Greg feels about losing his father, but from the pained cries, the tears, the agony on his face during the funeral, I know that it is incredibly difficult for him.  After the service was over, your Gram, who had just experienced the memorial service for her husband, went over to comfort your Grampa Greg.  The wife mourning her husband turned into mother comforting her son.  He was crying.  She began crying.  I watched her hug him, stroke his hair, tell him his father was okay, that everything would be alright.  Reassuring him over and over.  I know Gram needed to mourn and "process" the events herself, but she put her son's need for comfort before her own needs.

So, after the funeral was over and we had some lunch, your Daddy and I took Grampa Greg back to the funeral home, leaving you once again with Donna and Roger.  And I missed you.  When we got back to Gram's, you were jumping with them on the couch, happy, but clearly delirious from lack of sleep (you only napped about 20 minutes).  I tried everything I could to get you to sleep.  I rocked, I sang, I patted your back, I held your hand, I let Gram feed you your bottle, and eventually I even drove you around in the car.  And even though you fell asleep in the car, your eyes popped open the second we got back.  So we sat in the rocking chair in the sun room and I hummed to you some more.  At this point, I had spent about 2 and a half hours trying to get you to sleep.  I had eaten very little at lunch because I was feeding you and now was missing dinner.  I had wanted to take a nap when you did, because I was tired, but you had other plans in mind.  But I sat there in the sun room, gladly rocking you and humming to you.  Because whenever you need something - food, comfort, anything - I will be there, to put your needs before my own.  I can't help it.  I'm a mother now.

Love forever,
Mama