When God gave me the gift of my first child, I became whole. I can’t explain it. A feeling encompassed my body, mind and spirit. It wasn’t expected. Who knew? While laying on an operating table below bright lights reflecting blood-red, a masked nurse in green scrubs held a screeching infant to my side. Tufts of damp hair stuck to his head. “It’s a BOY,” she said.
The infant’s crying suddenly stopped, as if a magic broom had been swept within. Eyes of slate blue, shiny and wet stared straight through the two of my own. This newborn child, swaddled and wrapped already knew me. An enormous clock on the wall, white with black hands measured seconds, one-by-one. Tick-tock, Tick-tock, Tick-tock….
Silence was broken. Words were spoken. “You can touch him,” whispered the nurse into the cold of my ear. TOUCH HIM? Yes, he’s mine…a boy….my son…my own.
Flat on my back, a single tentative finger reached to touch new skin of pink. Wrinkled and fresh from my womb. A miracle happened then. The infant’s hand, no larger than my thumb opened wide to hold a small part of me. Yes, we were joined forever now, together with all siblings who came after him.
There is an unspoken connection between mother and child that is felt upon birth. A bond infinitely remaining within the mother’s soul. Yes, she raises her children the best she can. Hopefully they will grow strong, healthy and independent. Perhaps she wishes for them to marry and have children of their very own one day? With other dreams along the way…..
Yes, there will always be tiny spaces reserved inside a mother’s heart for her children.
Forever, until the day she dies.