I have this little tradition with Mae. Part of me is hesitant to share it because it feels so intimate and special between the two of us, but I want to share it because I want her to grow up and read about these days, and remember it through my words when she cannot remember it through her own.
Every night TJ takes the two older girls and puts them to bed. They have this little ritual that involves him telling stories and them yelling and squealing. The room overflows with giggles.
You would think I would feel left out at this time — all that fun had without me. But I’m not. At all. After an entire day of squeals and giggles and songs and dancing, I’ve had about as much stimulation as I can handle.
So after we finish bath time, he puts the two big girls to bed, and Mae and I retreat to the lazy boy in the corner of my room. Since we are sadly done with nursing, I give her a bottle, and I sing to her. Now it is no small miracle that she allows me to do this. Magoo stopped liking my singing by the time she was a couple of months old, and Goosie pretty much screamed any time I sang from the moment she came into this world. (Can’t say I blame her.)
But little Mae is different. She likes it.
And so I give her a bottle, and I sing to her. I sing church songs because they are about the only songs I can actually keep tune to, and they also feel a bit special. Like I am asking God into our little duo and asking Him to bless us.
I’ll sit there sometimes for five minutes, sometimes for close to an hour, just rocking her and singing. Breathing in the smell of clean baby. Thanking God for her. Thanking her for being who she is. Wondering at the sheer magnitude of the blessings that have come to me through these three amazing little girls.
And sometimes I’ll say a rosary while I’m still rocking her and she’s fast asleep. I’ll ask God to steer me in the right direction. To do right by them. To be what they need. To help me lead them to Him. And I’ll always use one of three rosaries. One my dad gave me a couple of days before we got married, one that was made out of the roses at my grandma’s wake, or one that Magoo gave me for Mother’s Day last year (the first Mother’s Day gift she ever made me.)
And while I’m praying to God, using these rosaries that came to me through such special circumstances, I am reminded of all who came before me. All the love that has gotten us to this moment. All the mothers over all the years throughout all of history who lulled their babies to sleep with the sound of their voice and the gentle rocking motion of their bodies.
And I feel connected to something so much greater while at the same time I feel like my world is suddenly very small. It’s between us: my girls and me. Of all the people in all of history in all the world, these three are mine and I am theirs. We belong together. Our pieces combine to make one puzzle.
And again I pledge myself to them, and I pray for the strength to do it right. Because in those tiny little hands, I have been given the entire world.
Check out my Facebook page.