This morning I woke up after a long night. Sweet Avery was up every 1 1/2 hours to feed. I'm actually relishing this task more than I did with the other children. I'm building a blockade against resentment. Not letting it creep in. But, as the night and it's morning crept closer and sleep was eluding me more and more, I found myself greeting the dawn with tears and exhaustion. Craig muttered a happy mother's day feeling as though he shouldn't extend the salutation at all. But I was grateful for it and kissed him groggily as he hauled the three older siblings off to church.
I'm spoiled to have my own mother in my own home this mother's day--spoiled, knowing she is away from the man who made her a mother and the other children she bore to him. She mothered six and is here to walk that long bridge with me--the bridge between three and four. This morning we discussed the effort that needs to be made to "take care of yourself"--as a mother. She said, "I didn't take care of myself enough. I wouldn't eat. I would feed the children and it was like feeding myself. They were taken care of and that was enough." Only a mother knows this feeling. Self-forgetting.
We sat in the hospital gazing at Avery and my mother said, "Isn't it amazing you came out of me and she came out of you? We're like those Russian stacking dolls." And it will go on forever. Avery's daughters. The daughter's of granddaughters. Mother's will keep forgetting themselves forever. And we will forever fit back together.
Happy mother's day to me. Happy mother's day to our mothers and theirs. Happy mother's day to mine and for being here to welcome our newest little stacking doll.