09 May She is Teaching Me How to Be A Mother
Granted, I could likely say that about every year.
While some are scrambling around trying to figure out what exactly to get their Mother, my husband had already asked me what I wanted earlier in the week.
As we were talking yesterday Phil asked me if there was anything else I wanted.
I mentioned that I’d love some biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and to completely organize all of my doula area and the entire basement.
Can I get an amen for de-cluttering and organization?
Oh and by the way, he totally helped me get EVERYTHING done today.
Yes, he’s a MAJOR keeper.
As he cooked up a delicious biscuits and gravy meal this morning I felt so loved. Not only was it delicious, but he has also perfected making it in a way that our youngest can eat it too (food allergies).
As the five of us sat to eat, we prayed and they all told me happy Mother’s Day.
As we started to eat my daughter Zemirah, looked at me and said,
“Mama what about your other three babies that died and that are in heaven?”
“Mama do you miss them?”
No one even blinked. And though I was surprised the topic had come up, I felt thankful it had.
We talked for a little bit, then the questions continued,
“Mama what were their names again?”
I replied, “Christopher Paul, Rivkah Hazel, and the baby from last summer doesn’t have a name yet, but I think it was a girl. I’m thinking something with Mae in it.”
“Me too, Mama. Me too.”
It was a simple two-minute conversation, but one that I will never forget.
My six-year-old daughter brought up something that so many never would.
Maybe for fear of causing someone pain, not knowing what to say, thinking that a lot of time has passed, there are many reasons for not talking about the babies those we love have lost, or even that we have lost.
But my daughter didn’t have any of those thoughts, and her words told me that,
She remembers them.
Though two of them were conceived before she was born.
She cares so deeply about my heart.
She wanted to know if I was ok thinking about them today.
She isn’t afraid to talk about the hard stuff.
Even right in the middle of biscuits and gravy if need be.
She is quite possibly the most kind, real, and loving person I’ve ever met.
Tonight she grabbed the one raspberry on top of the cake we were sharing, and I happily smiled thinking she was grabbing it for herself but the next thing I knew the fork was at my mouth.
Her eyes were lit up and she had a huge smile on her face and said, “This is for you, Mama.”
A raspberry has never, or will ever taste so good.
She has taught and is teaching me more than I could ever possibly teach her.
She is teaching me how to be a mother.
Written by Melinda Britton