LOUISE: A Mother’s Heart
May is for mothers! It’s a month that celebrates those who hold the highest and hardest job—motherhood. I journeyed into motherhood at 22 years of age. Young and blessed! I will never forget the thrill of holding my baby for the first time. Pure heaven! Counting ten tiny fingers and toes. Rubbing my cheek against silky, baby-soft hair. Holding him skin-to-skin, feeling his rhythmic breathing while little eyes gently closed in sleep. Precious memories!
It’s difficult for most of us to understand unconditional love; that is, until we become mothers. Then it’s the most natural thing in the world. And why wouldn’t it be? From the moment our babies snuggled comfortably into our wombs, they depended on us for their very life and we never, ever forgot that in all our years of parenting. And even though our children leave the womb, they never leave our hearts. They are forever attached by cords of love. And those mothers who never carried their children inside the womb? Well, they carried them in their hearts.
During this Mother’s Day season, I offer a heartfelt thanks to every mother for a job well done. Know that your love will guide your children throughout their lives. Their fond memories will often be a lifeline in their adult lives. My own 97-year-old mother is still praying over her six children. What a legacy. “Love you, Mama!”
Hope you enjoy this poem I wrote several years ago.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Inside Mommy’s Heart
I watch you as you sleep
And listen for a soft sigh
That says you need me.
Awake, your blue eyes entrance me
As I lose all my inhibitions,
Cooing and gurgling for your smile.
You are still full of newness
And your presence overwhelms me,
Delights me, mesmerizes me.
I want someone—everyone
To know what I feel deep inside,
Being certain it never has been.
For who could know how my heart
Is held tightly in your tiny fist
And my soul now one with yours?
Or how unchecked tears of joy
Slide silently down my cheeks
When I hold you late at night.
And who could know how your life
Could suddenly become my life,
In fact, more important than my own.
You have enamored me and awed me
As every inch and ounce of your being
Still whispers, sings, even shouts,
“Miracle! Miracle! Miracle!”