I remember so much more than you

My entire pregnancy was spent in dread.  I knew you would never feel my love.  Your older sister, my only other child, was a mere three months old when I discovered I was carrying you.  The pregnancy I had with your sister was so scary and pulled in me every possible motherly-fight-for-my-child instinct that I thought possible.  She had survived brutal things and had overcome so many threats to her life before even taking her first breath.  Everything I had was in her...how could I take that away to give to another child?

You see, I was immature enough in my understanding of love and so new at being a mother, that I had no idea that God would just supply my heart with the strength to love another.  I thought it would be like dividing love in half, to split among children, rather than addition or multiplication. 

I didn't prepare for you the same, either.  Prayers were much more generic.  Baby stuff was doubled or used things saved.  Rather than daydreaming new baby-room decor, I simply tried to figure out how to fit two cribs in a small room.  There were other things happening in my life, things that drew much of my attention.  Prayers were said for myself.

Labor was a long time coming, and a long time going.  But in all things were a lot less scary than the birth of my first child.  As luck would have it, only the private room in the hospital was available.  That added a lot to my comfort level.  I began to worry about what kind of mother I would be.  I wanted to be a good mom.  But I knew I would not be.  And I cried, because I knew that since we were connected, you must have hurt for the love I couldn't give.

Very soon after, you were born.  You are the only child that was given directly to me after birth.  You came out with just the littlest sounds, falling asleep almost as immediately as they put you on my chest.  And at that moment I think my heart fairly burst with such a flood of love as I had never known before.  There was nothing, nothing in that room other than you, with your perfectly bowed lips stuck out satisfactorily in a manner you still give, when you know you are certain.

You continue to amaze me.  It isn't that you are unrealistically optimistic...but you don't doubt, you don't fear.  You know you belong, you know who loves you, and you know from Whom your strength comes from.   I look at you now, 16 years later, and I remember so much more than you.  I know how quickly time flies by, how much goes into building a character, into maintaining a faith.  You are beautiful, smart, instinctive, emotional, wise and argumentative.  You are compassionate, discerning, keeper of secrets, teller of tales, watcher of equal amounts of pizza and even portions of potato chips.  You are a dreamer, a planner, a detective and accept things at face value.  You are classic and free.  You are quirky, self-assured and shy.  You are one who speaks their mind with out trying to hurt another's feelings.  You hide your feelings without denying them, but not your thoughts which are given outlets in spoken and written work, and sometimes music.  You are sixteen years of teaching me exactly what love is, what love does and what it is capable of.  And I remember every lesson.   

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[Skipper]

THis is precious.