What's On My Mind...at 59: Luke

First Kiss

I've been thinking a lot lately about my life and all the many, various experiences I've had in my 59 +

years. After establishing myself in my career as a nurse, I had three children from 1979-1983. In 1989, two more children came into my life. And now I have 3 grandchildren, too. I have so many precious memories - like when my step-sons handcuffed me to a chair and wouldn't let me free for about 4 hours. And when my granddaughter at age 4 looked at a tough, hairy guy sitting on a big ole Harley smoking a cigarette and asked in a loud voice, "Hey Grandon and Grandaddy, when can I start smokin'?" And the first time our oldest son read to me Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel. And our youngest daughter at about 5 months old tapping me with her tiny hand on the shoulder as I held her warm little body against mine. How our oldest daughter was bucked off one of our horses when she was five, stood back up, dusted her pants off and asked if she could get back on.

Sarah and Luke

While I was walking this morning I relived a wonderful, more recent memory that I cherish.

The newborn baby you see in the picture is our grandson Luke. After a very hard and long labor, Luke was born (or "bunked out" - private joke, sorry) on Dec. 7th (Pearl Harbor Day), 2010. Our daughter had a c section because Luke refused to budge from the side-ways position he was in. We were so thankful for a healthy mom and a healthy baby.

When I first met him I busted out in tears. My other daughter Emily and I were crying and taking pictures and kissing his sweet little face and crying and getting all choked up.

The next day when I returned to the hospital Sarah asked if I would help her shower and wash her hair. Now, you have to understand that since my daughters have been about 12 years old they have both been very private about their bodies. Even though I'm a nurse and I've never been private about mine with them.

I felt honored to assist Sarah with her ablutions.

At Hopkins where Luke was born, the showers on the maternity wards are roomy. We both fit in just fine.

I got everything all ready and then escorted her to the shower carefully holding her arm.

The water was warm and she just stood under it for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of all the sweat from her labor washing off of her strong body. She soaked her hair as I got the soapsuds all bubbly on the wash cloth.

I gently washed her from head to toe, front to back. When I got to her feet I spent some extra minutes washing every toe and between every toe and thought about how many miles she will walk with this child, how many stairs she will climb, first days of school, how many fields she will stand in on a cold morning or how many art shows she will haul stuff to, how many teacher conferences, how many trips to the doctor, how many miles she'll ride in her car with him hoping for a meaningful conversation, how much she'll worry at first when he goes off to college, how many times she'll lecture him about treating women with respect, how many times she'll push him on the swings, how much macaroni and cheeses she will fix, how many times they will laugh and cry and how much she will teach him.......... and he will teach her.

I thought about how for thousands of years women have been caring for each other after childbirth, washing each others feet with tenderness. Bringing them clean clothes to put on, making them a warm cup of tea.

I felt so happy for my daughter.

As the water swirled down the drain I thought about how our previous relationship was circling the drain and disappearing right then and there. How something new was being born between us.

And I knew that our relationship had changed forever. She was now a mother, one of the most honorable things you can be. And she would be a wonderful mother of Luke.

I hate to even think about the poor teacher not doing her job teaching him (Sarah is a middle school special educator) or the soccer coach that doesn't play all of the kids. Whew - I don't even want to think about it. And if Luke's Auntie Em is there - I feel bad.....really bad. If I'm there I might have to suddenly get a really bad headache and have to go home. Ha!

I got that choked up feeling thinking about how beautiful Sarah's feet were. So strong and beautiful. So capable.

As I washed her long, thick hair I massaged her scalp and hoped she was enjoying these quiet moments. I was thinking, she doesn't know yet just how rare and precious quiet moments can be. But, if I know Sarah, she won't miss them. Not with this little child to love. She won't even notice they are gone.

Well.... until they are teenagers and then she might notice...........yep.

I french-braided her hair and slowly and gently put lotion on her back and legs and feet. We talked some, but not a lot.

Then I held out her jammie bottoms for one leg and then the other. I helped her adjust the awful giant pad you've got to wear after giving birth - she wore it without one comment or complaint.

Once she was back in bed, I tucked her in, got her a giant glass of water and we called for the new love in our lives. It was time to nurse and cuddle and for all of us to talk about the most beautiful baby ever born.