Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts

Sunday, March 24, 2013

A Mother's Memories: If only I could go back....

motherhood,baby,scrapbook,
My daughter, just a few weeks old

Several years ago, when my daughter was in her late 20's, I finally managed to put together her baby book (birth through age two). Each day for weeks, I holed up in our home office, cranked up some music, scanned in old photos, and racked my brain trying to remember details from decades ago. Each time, I felt myself being transported back in time to 1980, 1981 and 1982. It was an emotional roller coaster ride full of joy and pain, gratitude and remorse. Each day I shed new tears remembering the precious times my daughter and I had had together, agonizing over remembered mistakes, longing to go back in time to hold her little body again, and wishing I had been paying closer attention to the exact moment she first smiled, when her first tooth came in, when she sat up all by herself. What was the date she took her first steps? Was I even in the room, or had I been at work and only got to hear about it secondhand? 

Anyone who has raised a child and then allows her/himself to reminisce will know what I am talking about. I was so busy living my life that some of these momentous occasions slipped by unmarked on my life's calendar, although I know without a doubt that I celebrated them at the time. But somehow I can't help but feel I didn't give each moment enough attention. Maybe fireworks had been called for and all I had to give was a smile and then, quickly, a look forward to the next stage of development. Why hadn't I taken life slower and appreciated each achievement my daughter made with more awe and wonder? I know the answer to that question and it's complicated. My life as a single mother was complicated back then.

At the end of my scrapbook project I felt both elated and let down. I was glad I had finally produced a baby book for my daughter, but I was also going to miss the emotionally exhausting trek down memory lane each day. There's something a little addicting about the regular stirring of emotions.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Genetically Speaking

My two girls, 28 years apart: my daughter, Emily, on the left, her daughter (my sweet Lily) on the right. Guess things really don't change, do they?























Monday, December 21, 2009

Ah, Amor, Amor! ...sigh...

You know the feeling, or I'm sure you remember it: total infatuation. It's wonderful and wonderfully awful at the same time. You can't stand being apart from The One. You think about them all the time when you're not together. You look at pictures of them and it makes you feel both happy to gaze at their lovely face, and heartsick because they are not with you and all you have is a crummy photo. You wait impatiently for your next meeting. When you're alone, you sigh a lot and gaze off into space.

That describes me to a T ever since my granddaughter was born a little over a year ago. When I see Lily, words like snookums and punkin enter my vocabulary. I call her little one, baby doll, baby girl, sweetheart, snookie-wookums, punkin-roo, cutie pie, Lily Pilly -- they just roll right off my tongue. I'm not an overly demonstrative person and use very few endearments even with my husband who, although I love him dearly, is only once in a while called anything other than his name. In fact I've been accused of never giving anything away, but if Lily is in the room with me my whole world turns into a "precious moment" and the pet names and superlatives begin to fly out of my mouth. What is it about babies anyway that they can get under your skin to the point where you forget yourself and become a love-smitten fool speaking words dripping with honey? Ain't it great?




Lily with Lily's Mom, my daughter, Emily - another person who made my world precious.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Up for Adoption

adoption, adult adoption, motherhood, fatherhood, parenting, single parent, children

Twenty-nine years ago, when I was almost 26, I had a baby girl. I was single, making a minimum wage, living alone, and my baby's biological father (who I had been madly in love with) was nowhere to be found. I had the unrealistic hope that he would be so overcome by a sense of love and devotion once he saw the baby (which he never did, by the way) that he would sweep us off our feet and protect and provide for us forevermore. (What planet was I living on?) That was not to be, but I still wanted very much to be married for all the conventional reasons, and felt quite desperate about seeking a mate; there was no one on the horizon. That desperation probably seeped out making the whole "landing a man" thing less likely (men can smell desperation a mile away), even though I tried very hard to play it cool.

Back in 1980, the year of my daughter's birth, unwed mothers were still a bit risque. I hoped that being a single mother would add another layer to the veneer I was laying down that told the world I was tough, independent, liberated and didn't care what the establishment thought. The truth of the matter was that I was very tired all of the time, lonely a good part of the time, and constantly broke, although I can honestly say that I truly didn't care what the establishment thought.

I never doubted, however, my ability to be both mother and father. I always felt that my love for my daughter was so great that she couldn't possibly feel a void in her life that should have been filled by a father. And I think to some extent this was true.

After many years of dating - findin
g a few men along the way that I thought I loved but didn't love me, finding men who thought they loved me but I didn't love them, and finding men who fit neither category - I found my husband with whom I first had an off-again on-again relationship that went on for more than a decade before he finally decided he was ready. During our long courtship (I can't think of a word that actually describes what we put each other through during those years) my husband had watched my daughter grow up and had played the role of 'dad' in her life, even more so than most 'real' fathers I have known. By the time we married, my daughter was 17 and given her delicate emotional state (what can I say -- she was 17) we didn't entertain the idea of my husband adopting her, although we had discussed it previously and I knew my husband loved the idea, even though he already had five grown children.


adoption, adult adoption, fatherhood, motherhood, parenting, children

A few years later, my daughter got married and a few years after that, got pregnant. At the same time, we were finally putting together our Last Will and Testament, and for some reason, once again talking about my husband legally adopting my daughter. She was already 28, married with a baby on the way, but somehow it just seemed like such a beautiful idea. For many years my husband had felt like her father, and my daughter saw him as a dad, but wouldn't it be sweet and wonderful to make it so in the eyes of the law as well. To our joy, my daughter was enthusiastic about the idea, as were all five of my husband's children.

Yesterday, with our 7 month old granddaughter in tow, we went to court. The judge barely said two words to us as he pored over the documents we had filed, making sure everything was in order. He then looked up at us, the only people in the courtroom, and said, "Well... that's it." The four of us (my husband, my daughter, her husband, and myself) practically said in unison, "That's it?", and we were done.

As we walked to the elevator to go home, I fought back tears. I was amazed at the depth of my feeling about what had just transpired. I thought to myself, I'm a parent
with someone now. My daughter has a mother and a father. She's legitimate. Why these thoughts crossed my mind I don't know since I never felt she was illegitimate just because her biological father chose to abandon us. I never felt we were less of a family because it was just the two of us. But it was almost as if the void being filled yesterday was in my psyche as much, if not more, than in my daughter's. I felt as if a gap in our family circle was finally closed. I felt more complete somehow.

On the way out last night, I thought my son-in-law summed it up beautifully in his parting words to my husband. He said, "Thanks for adopting my wife."

 
Thank you, sweet husband, for adopting my child.


adult adoption, court procedure,legal adoption,family,parenting,fatherhood,motherhood

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

We Love Until It Hurts, But...




Today I didn't say the right things
I didn't give enough hugs
I didn't listen to all of their imaginary stories.
Today my prayers were too short and
my lectures too long.
My smiles, I'm sure, didn't hide my fatigue.
Today I didn't heal any wounds;
in fact, I'm sure I caused some.
Their tears fell and I felt too lifeless
to wipe them away.
Today I felt completely defeated and totally inadequate
for this position called "mommy".
But as I kneel in prayer to confess my failures,
I am reminded...
I am not their hope.
I am not their total joy.
I am not their salvation.
He is!
And they are his children even more
than they are mine.
I am reminded...
he always listens,
always guides,
always touches,
and always loves perfectly.
I can rest now, Lord, remembering
that I am not alone.

My daughter was almost grown when I came across this poem (written by Wendy Brewer). How I wish I had had it to read while she was growing up because I so often felt those same feelings of inadequacy and failure described so well in the poem. I worried about the effects my failures would have on my daughter. I knew that some of my shortcomings would leave permanent scars; the question was how deep would they go.

I want to pass this on with the hope that the poem's words of encouragement will help another struggling, tired parent who, each day, tries so hard to be everything to everyone.

And Emily, if you're reading this, remember these words whenever you feel motherhood overwhelming you. And you should know that I have always felt that you are a gift, more than I deserve.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

She's Heeeerrrrre....


My little granddaughter, just a few minutes old: Lily Joy.
From my own joy, comes more!



Monday, November 10, 2008

Showering Baby

jewelry,handmade,handcrafted,party,baby,shower,necklace,bracelet,earring,anklet,custom jewerly

I have been so busy lately that I haven't posted on my blog for a while. A baby shower for my daughter, that I helped organize, was held about a week ago and was so much fun. We had a great turnout with 40 women and all of their gifts packed in together quite cozily. Sacramento hasn't had rain in ages, but we got a downpour the day of the party. Fortunately, it didn't dampen anyone's spirit or desire to come help celebrate the occasion.

I was able to get the cake (Boston cream pie!) decorated with the same design as the invitations we sent out. I was so pleased with the results. Thank you Freeport Bakery! And tasty? Oh yeah!

jewelry,handmade,handcrafted,party,baby,shower,necklace,bracelet,earring,anklet,custom jewerly

My sister-in-law was in charge of the decorating, and she did such a beautiful job. It was simple and cheerful and felt like Spring instead of a rainy day. And of course there were silly games, courtesy of my daughter's sister-in-law. It was a wonderful family collaboration.


jewelry,handmade,handcrafted,party,baby,shower,necklace,bracelet,earring,anklet,custom jewerly
My one regret? I don't think anyone took a picture of my daughter and me together ... sigh .... Hating to have my picture taken, I don't usually put myself out there for photo ops so no big surprise. But after the fact I'm sorry that I didn't ask someone to snap our photo. So what if my eyes are usually closed and my chin looks like it invited a second one? Maybe someone can cut and paste a couple of pictures together to put us next to each other - for posterity.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Not Lucky, But Blessed, Fortunate, Favored, Happy

I don't believe in luck. Luck is too random. Sometimes I hear myself wishing someone "good luck!" then think, I've got to come up with a better exit line than that. "Bonne chance" sounds more exotic, but it's still bestowing a blessing of luck. Maybe "God bless you" is what I should get in the habit of bidding someone. It reflects what I do believe in.

I looked "luck" up in my little thesaurus to see what they would list as synonyms. The words in the title of this post include a few of the ones I identify with at this stage of my life, which is that of Grandma-in-waiting (that's me on the right, patiently in-waiting).
 

My daughter, my only child, is pregnant for the first time! Even though I also don't believe a person can jinx things, I've found myself somewhat hesitant to talk about it because it seems too good to be true. We were concerned for a couple of years that pregnancy for my daughter would be difficult at best, impossible at worst. But God in His heaven had plans, and Lily Joy is on her way, due in December! And she's beautiful!

I am Grandma Lynne already to one lovely, loving granddaughter, and two grandsons that constantly crack me up. These grandkids are thanks to my husband's children, so Lily will be the first to sprout directly off my twig of the family tree.

There are millions of grandmas in the world, and I get to be one of them! And I hope each one feels as blessed, fortunate and favored as I do. This is what the other side of child rearing is all about, isn't it?
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