Last month I had the pleasure to witness the birth of my first grandchild. My son and his beautiful other half Deja invited her mother and myself into the birthing room. Watching my granddaughter being pushed into the world will forever be one of my happiest moments. Watching my son hold his little Autumn for the first time and then carefully laying her in her mothers arms wrapped the two of them in his arms made my eyes swell with tears. I was very happy for them and I was especially happy for Deja.
I gave birth three times and unfortunately not one of the births was filled with the amount of love shared in that birthing room a month ago. My ex-husband and I married young. Our first child, was born exactly nine months after our January wedding. I called my son my honeymoon baby. I was twenty and I had fantasies of how my marriage should be. I was immature, too immature to know real love, well at least till my son was born.
I was in labor for thirty-two hours at Beth Israel Hospital. My husband was at my side the entire time. He held my hand, fed me ice chips, and whispered words of encouragement. He did all the right things but only when someone was in the room with us. That was our entire life together. I always thought I was too needy. I thought I expected a love like my parents or like an episode of the Cosby Show. I don’t know why I didn’t think I deserved all that. I spent my entire marriage desperately hoping he would look at me like I was the love of his life. He never did.
I don’t blame my husband for not looking at me like my son looked at the mother of his daughter, his soul mate, his better half. I’m very sure my ex can think of many moments that I didn’t look at him the way Deja looks at my son, like he is the most wonderful person on earth. I giggle to my cousin how goo-goo eyed they both are. It’s funny because they have known each other since the fourth grade and have been friends the entire time. My ex husband and I were classmates in high school but were never truly friends. My marriage has been a series of sad and lonely moments and the birth of my children were the saddest. I’m way past the age where I will ever experience childbirth with someone who loves me to the end of time but I am glad I actually had the opportunity to witness it.
Love is friendship that has caught fire.
It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving.
It is loyalty through good and bad times.
It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.
I made it for NaBloPoMo before midnight 🙂