Thursday, July 01, 2010

I don't want to forget this...

2 am this morning. My bed. Evan and Corinne are tangled around each other, my blankets and my pillows and I awoke with a start: I sigh... Where do I put my own head? Where do I stretch out and relax? When do I get a few moments ALONE, for cryin out loud?

Then.

A whimper and a cry and Corinne is frantically searching for something. Panic is in her glassy eyes and I know that she is still in that place between sleep and consciousness. I reach for her and attempt to stroke her wild sun-streaked locks down.

Shhh... shhh... Mommy's here.... shhh....

She clings to me instantly and shudders. I can only imagine the drama that was unfolding within her 4 year old mind, for she has relaxed against me and manages to murmur against my shoulder,

"I just wanted you, Mommy. I was scared and wanted you..."

There is a basic need that I have to touch my children. It's a need that is echoed back by them.

My kids are more than just an extension of me. They represent more than the love that Patrick and I shared to bring them into this world. These words right here are such a pitiful representation of what I am grasping at... Just let it be known that we exist together and are connected at a primal level. It's a common human need to want to be touched; But it's a mother's need to touch her children and to be touched by them. To be deprived of that ability must feel as though you are deprived of oxygen-rich air. Yes, I can exist with the poor quality air of the mountain-tops, working twice as hard to jump and run. But I'd rather thrive in the jungles below, breathing in so much oxygen that my mind feels euphoric and body rejuvenated...

What will life be like for me as my children pull away and no longer search for me in the night? When I am the only one with the primal need to touch them and their desire is to establish themselves as individuals? No longer so tightly connected to the woman that birthed them...

I suppose grandchildren are like oxygen masks. They have the ability to replenish the quality of air. They allow themselves to be overly hugged and held; to be adored without reserve...

And then I hear Evan stirring in his sleep. And he startles awake and reaches out for something...

And I remember to stay in the present. To enjoy the now. To saturate myself with so much oxygen right now that I cannot stay awake for the melancholic thoughts to take over. I reach for my son and stroke his spiky brown hair.

Shhh... shhh... Mommy's here... shhh...

16 comments:

WeaselMomma said...

This is beautiful.

Deb said...

Good grief, lady. Now I'm crying into my lunch over here.

Beautiful story.

Midwestern Mama Holly said...

Very touching. Beautiful.

CaraBee said...

I hug and kiss and cuddle my daughter a hundred, a thousand, times a day for this very reason. The time when they are all ours is so short. I don't want to miss out on a moment.

Stacia said...

There's nothing like that feeling where they need you, where they snuggle into you, where you and only you as Mother can provide peace and comfort. Sigh. This is beautiful, Tracey.

The Empress said...

OK, I was just about to go to bed, and now I'm sitting here crying. I adore my children as well. Nice, so very nice, to meet a mom who needs them like oxygen, too.

Pleasure to meet you!

Angie, "Yo' Navy Mama." said...

I needed that. We're in the throes of house hunting and negotiating and moving from temporary place to temporary place, and I have been a terribly cranky, crabby, mean mommy. I just needed that reminder to stay in the present. Thank you.

Shari said...

You beautifully expressed something all moms think about all the time. When do I get a moment vs. the need to be with our children. I keep thinking that one day they won't want me to hug them, so I better enjoy it now.

anymommy said...

Staying in the present is so hard. A lovely post.

Michelle said...

Oh that is beautiful, Tracey! I can't handle having any more bodies in my bed, but I'm with you on the need to be touched and to touch. And fingers crossed tomorrow is a less crabby day all around!

April said...

I'll reflect on your words next time I feel like choking one of my kids. You may have just saved one of their lives. You know what that means, don'tchya? Yep, you're responsible for them now. I think you'll be perfect for them.

Kami's Khlopchyk said...

I can relate to this totally. I am a crave physical affection and my kids are the same. I am going to miss when they are young men and are no longer comfortable with it from their mom.

That's when I will get a dog.

But for now, I am going to drink up every drop!

Pregnantly Plump said...

This gave me goosebumps!

mep said...

After a whole-family-in-one-bed (except the baby, two feet away in pack and play) weekend at the in-laws, this post is exactly what I needed. Focus on the togetherness not the tiredness, right?

Beautifully written.

Scary Mommy said...

I love this post. Love it.

Rachel said...

So beautiful. I am so thankful God created us like this - with a need for eachother.

Thanks for this "live in the moment" reminder!

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