celebrating motherhood

Today, Mother's Day, is a day to reflect on one of the most beautiful gifts of my life: motherhood. Let me introduce you to my children and what they have meant to me.

Brendan, my firstborn, was a scrapper right from the beginning, all 7 pounds 6 ounces of himself! He was the king of temper tantrums but, in the end, always, eventually, obeyed. As he outgrew the colossal tantrums, he found other outlets for frustration. He'd break pencils, for one. I'd find them all over the house. At least it was a quiet outlet! Then, he took up the trumpet and became quite proficient at it, playing in his school's jazz band. He's always been one who wants to figure things out for himself. He always had a purpose. I'll never forget, driving along when he was in 7th or 8th grade, he told me that, if he could work with computers the rest of his life, he would live a happy life. When it was time to go to college, he researched extensively and discovered that one of the best computer engineering programs was right in his back yard: the University of MN. So, off he went...and then figured out how to become a teaching assistant for grad school (tuition/living stipend paid!) to get his masters in electrical engineering. Guess what? He's now working with computers! He's even got a patent for one of his electrical engineering inventions. (Don't ask me what he does. My eyes glaze over whenever he tries to tell me. It's all Greek to me!) Along the way, he discovered the wonder of women. As he tells it, there was one Catholic woman majoring in electrical engineering and he was lucky enough to find her! Wendy and he have been married for 7 years and are the parents of my precious grandchildren. He has grown to be a thoughtful, kind man who takes his responsibilities very seriously.

Brian was a quiet, content baby at first. He weighed in at 10 pounds 2 ounces. As he grew, I discovered he hated to be put down. So, he'd accompany me everywhere, hanging from my hip! When he was 3, he was diagnosed with tactile defensiveness, which explained his earlier reluctance to explore his world on his hands and knees. Because of the diagnosis, that summer we explored many parks all over the Twin Cities, put bubbles in the kiddie pool and the Squeezy Monster came to our house. (I was told he needed all different kinds of tactile experiences, most especially being touched with firmness.) Soon, he was romping with the best of them. He was very shy, never wanting to leave the comfort of home. Each move (from Minneapolis to Kansas City to Elkhorn, WI to St. Paul) forced him out of his shell and was a challenge for him. He persevered through them all. In his early adult years, he decided to see the world. Apparently, he felt I'd sheltered him too much when he announced that he was going to England on a tour with: "And you aren't going to stop me, Mom." I assured him I had no intention of doing such a thing and I, in fact, loved the idea (even though I was quaking in my boots at the very thought of it!). This proclamation became his personal declaration of independence. Next, he traveled to Ireland with a tour. Then, he visited Denmark and his cousin who was stationed there for a year. During THAT trip, he researched online and figured out how to go to Germany and found a hotel and off he went. After that, he went on his own for two weeks to Ireland, neglecting one little detail when he informed his mother of it: he was going to WALK everywhere. When he got back and told me what he'd done, I expressed my appreciation of NOT knowing ahead of time because I may not have slept while he was gone. He replied that the people in Ireland were the friendliest, most hospitable people he's ever seen. He said all one has to do is open a map and 10 people come, asking if they can help. He said he only got lost once...walking out of the airport, it took him 8 hours to find his hotel, instead of the 3 he'd planned. He's been to Egypt with his father (whose lifelong dream it had been to go there). Yes, he has developed a wanderlust spirit and the courage to venture forth. When I lost my job, he gave me more money for rent than required because he wanted to help me out. (He lives in my basement and helps with outside chores.) It warmed my heart. He has grown to be a kind, interesting person.

Evan was "Mr. Sunshine" from the moment he was born. He rarely cried. I don't think he ever threw a tantrum. He was always happy. One funny story I have is when he was 2 and a half. He was supposed to be napping but had decided instead to get his dad's big, thick black magic marker and decorate himself, his sheets, his rug and his wall. When I went to check on him, he was more black than white. I put him in the tub, starting to scrub him. I stopped because I realized, being as irritated as I was, I might scrub too hard. I made him soak. How I wish now that I'd taken a picture AND that I'd laughed instead of being mad at him! Everything comes easy for Evan. His grades, his work, his life...We used to say he was born under a lucky star. Oh, yes...he weighed 8 pounds 15 ounces. He calls me "Mama" in that sweet way he has. He, too, is an electrical engineer and has a patent in his work. He recently bought a home to call his own. He is quite content in his life. I knew he would be...and I know he will continue to be. That's Evan, a gentle sweet young man!

When Meghan was born, I didn't believe she was a girl. I said, "I don't believe it; let me see!" After having three boys, was I really going to believe it without seeing with my very own eyes??? She weighed in at 10 pounds 6 ounces and developed jaundice within a few days. We were allowed to keep her at home with a portable lights unit. She hated it when we had to put the mask over her eyes. Otherwise, she grew up healthy and was a fairly easy-going baby, too. As the only daughter AND the youngest, she was destined to be a pampered little princess. The only thing was she did NOT want to be pampered. She rough-housed with the boys, playing all their games, hating dolls (MUCH to her mother's chagrin!). And, with four children 5 and half years old and under, I didn't have a lot of time to pamper anyone. She grew up very independent. However, she and I still have our traditions, just the two of us. She has a compassionate heart and an open to life spirit.

I have loved being a mother. When my children were born and we were finally alone, just the two of us, I would tell them all the things I hoped I could give them as their mother. I always sang lullabies to them, too. From the very beginning, they were their own unique persons. It was so much fun, watching them grow to be who they are today. I most especially appreciate that, now as adults, they have become my friends. Essentially, my hands on mothering days are over. We have moved on to helping one another through friendship and mutual love of one another.

Today, I have been thinking also about little Joseph's mother and Terri Schiavo's mother. Little Joseph is alive and being loved in his own home with his family around him. Had it not been for the intervention of many people (prayers included), he would have died in a cold hospital a couple months ago. (See March 1st blog entry.) I love that his mother has him with her today and will have him until the time comes for him to die naturally. God is in charge now! And, the sadness I continue to feel for Mary Schindler can be overpowering at times. Her daughter was wrenched from her arms (literally and figuratively) and forced to starve to death. The only consolation is in the confidence that she is in heaven, free from all pain and suffering. Terri may have been taken from her far too early but she is still her mother. I know from the experience of watching my mother after my sister died, the pain will last a lifetime but the hope that they will be together one day in heaven will also remain. Becoming a mother is all about hope; hope for our children, hope that we will grow in love as we set about raising them and hope for all of us to be in heaven one day.

May God bless all mothers!