Eight years ago today, I was blessed with the birth of my baby, Zoe. I suppose it’s not fair to call her “my baby” anymore. I struggle with that idea since she barely is vocal and nothing is more precious to her than a damn good cuddle.
People always wonder if parents have regrets about having kids, more so if they know that child brings a world of challenges, but through the ups and downs I have often found myself wondering, especially lately, if our family’s parenting challenges are worse than anyone else’s. Sure, there are kids who DO truly have heart-breaking challenges: violence that they cannot help, pain that can’t be fixed, illness that will likely take their lives, addictions they can’t conquer, to name a few. I don’t know what parents like that think, and I can’t fault them too much for what must be an intolerable mountain of pain.
But though we have our difficulties – and this has been a painful and challenging week, as the last month or so has been – there is something … something I can’t quite define about how WONDERFUL my family is.
Is it Amelia’s amazing and carefree smile that comes out in a flash when you least expect? Or Zoe’s ear-deep grin that warms my heart? Or the tenderness of Chris’ hugs when things are bad? I don’t know, but sometimes I feel like every day is Pancake Sunday. You ever have this as a kid? We did. I’d wake up on a weekend to Dad making PILES and piles of pancakes and I knew it was going to be a good day. It’s one of those heart warming memories that makes my eyes blur with tears, like opening presents or a trip to Disney World.
I feel a *little* bit of that nearly every day. There are times when I’m too sick or too tired or too frustrated, o even go there, true, but most of the time, I can get to that place daily.
So, do I have regrets? No, because this is the life I’m meant to lead, and when I lean into it (pun intended), it feels damn good. And it’s mine, all mine, and no one can take that from me, not one of those precious hugs, or cuddles, or kisses, or laugh attacks, or sincere smiles, or heartfelt tears, or sincere apologies, or milestones that we accomplished that once seemed impossible. Like Mary, I treasure those things in my heart.
And when I think of Zoe, what I always remember is the day she was born, when they put her in my arms and left her there for an hour or more, until my arm hurt, all alone, and big blue eyes staring deeply into mine, making a bond so strong I don’t know could ever break it.
Thank you, Zoe, for being a blessing to our family, to your friends, to those who love you, and the many caregivers and teachers and helpers who care about you. I promise to try to help you be strong, to look out for your every day and every way I can, and to pray for your every night.
XOXOXOXO
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
