One Well Momma

You gave rise to a love I didnt know existed. Real love. True love. A pure love. A love that has no expectations. A love that sustains, even if it is not reciprocal. A love that is neither biased because of what you have to offer, nor prejudice for what you are incapable of sharing. A love that is absolute. A love that has no regard for cajolery. A love that is unwavering.

I think this is how Christ intended for us all to love one another. I imagine this how he loves me.

I think understanding and TRUELY believing that you were merely sent from God, for me to care for while you serve your purpose here and until he needed you home, allows me to exist as a mother differently. I can love more freely, because I am not bound by fear.

Some memories still evoke immense physical agony instantaneously, and what used to torment me was the guilt of not knowing how to love you in the beginning. I only knew how to be one kind of mother. The kind who caresses, rocks, swaddles, and snuggles her baby. The kind of mother that sings while she soothes her baby. The mother that gazes into her child’s eyes as she nurses. The kind of mother that enjoyed playing patty cake and making silly faces to her baby just to see them copy her expressions. But you never needed that kind of mother.

When I rocked you, you cried.

When I tried to caress you, you pulled away.

When I would sing, you couldn’t hear me.

When I stared into your eyes, you didn’t return the glance.

I couldn’t nurse you, so instead I mixed formula that hung in a bag.

I didn’t get to be the mother that had to worry about getting up to feed you throughout the night, instead, I was kept awake by beeping machines and alarms.

I did not not get to be the mother that heard you crying because you were hungry, but instead because you were wet. Along with all your clothing, bedding and the floor because the tubing had come undone and the milk contunued to flow.

When your nose was stuffy, I didn’t get to be the mom concerned because you couldn’t suck your bottle and breathe through your nose at the same time. Instead, I ran catheters through your nose while you screamed and past your throat to suction out the mucus that caused you to turn blue on more than one occasion.

I didn’t get to be the mom that relied on doctors to tell me every little way to care for you. Instead, I learned to replace your G tube at home so we didn’t have to keep making the 2 hour drive to the hospital in the middle of the night. I learned to fight the doctors for you because I refused to put you on yet another medical flight back to the hospital, because a doctor felt he knew better.

I didn’t get to be the mom that worried about how to decorate your room. Instead, I worried about how I was going to store all your medical supplies. In a  million other ways, I was new to this kind of motherhood.

We have come so far my tiny love. I cant imagine that the struggles and pain have not strengthened my love for you exceedingly. I am blessed every day to be given more time with you. I am grateful that I get to try again tomorrow, that I get to try to be better and that I get to try to be just the mother that YOU need me to be. I trust that our struggles have a purpose in this world or the next. If I leave this life today, I can say I knew the most pure of loves.