Becoming a Mother

Twenty-two years ago today, I became a mother. In one way, my “gestation” was only five weeks. In another way, it was nine and a half long years.

Even though, we had no legal rights at that time, our pediatrician had us scrub up while she went down to the OR. We waited for the sound of the squeaky wheels we had heard as babies were taken from the nursery to their mothers. We were on pins and needles as we listened, wanting to see “our” baby rolled by us into the nursery. Suddenly the doctor rounded the corner carrying a bundle in her arms. She walked right into the room, up to me, saying, “He’s beautiful, Mommy,” and placed Andrew in my arms.

What joy Jeff and I knew that night! I carried him into the nursery. Jeff gave him his first bath. Andrew wouldn’t close his eyes. Even when the nurse put the eye drops in, he blinked his eyes open. He was ready to take a look at this new world of his.

Through an “entrustment,” we were allowed to take Andrew home when he was only 24 hours old. That night, Jeff played the violin for our baby boy. We sang to him. We loved him. That baby boy is now over 6 feet tall and listens to his own music, but we still love him, and give thanks for him.

Psalm 131.2:

But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.