Sunday, April 23, 2006

My Girl

For when you are older, and reading these often wild ramblings and pointless anecdotes, hopefully getting a sense of who your Mom is and was...I want you to know what a spectacularly delightful thing you are, and always were. Right now, I only want to tell you about this weekend, which was for a large part a misery for me, for reasons previously mentioned.

You crept downstairs Friday night in the middle of the night. I was awake, minding my pain, sitting up with it, you know (actually, I hope with all my heart that you never do), keeping it company, reading to it, letting it watch "The Godfather," whatever it demanded. You came right up to the edge of the bed and said, "I am too sad to sleep in my bed until the sun comes up. I need to sleep down here with you." Let it be known, in case I grow old and lecture you on the evils of allowing your child to share your bed, that I just smiled and lifted up the covers, and you snuggled right in, all warm smooth skin, sparkling bright eyes, flashing smile, soft kisses, and sweet baby's breath in your whispers.

We whispered a conversation that lasted a good 30 minutes, at least, and wandered hither and yon. You wanted to know if Grandmommy Judith was sleeping at her house. In her bed? Head on her pillow? Did she say her prayers? Did she sleep as soon as she closed her eyes? And Grandmommy Lynette?

Yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes.
Is Daddy sleeping?
If I talk loudly, I will wake him up?
And just then, a big snore from Daddy, and your eyes wide with surprise and silent laughter. What was THAT?
Daddy snored.
He did?
Do I do that?
Oh, no. Little girls are much more delicate.
Thoughtful consideration, then, Do I toot when I sleep?
Well, yes.
Ohhhhh. But only very softly.
If you say so.

I wish I could remember that whole conversation, wish I had it recorded so that I could replay it for the rest of my life. It was peppered throughout with declarations of huge love for your entire family, and on that secret night of ours, especially Mommy, who needed them. And hugs. And kisses. And snuggles. And I just lay there holding your perfect little child's body in my arms, tears welling in my eyes, wishing you this same joy someday, this same aching, heart-stretching, beautifully painful, swelling emotion. There is no more perfect love in the world, My Darling Girl, and I want you to know you've given it from the very beginning.

On Saturday, when you overfed your fish--a LOT, and I put them, for safekeeping, in a clean bowl of water, up on a shelf until the tank could be cleaned, and you came in to find them gone, and burst into tears, crying, "Did my fish eat themselfs dead? OHHHHH I'm so SORRY! I don't want them to be died!" it nearly broke my heart. I scooped you up and showed you where they were, and it was all right then, but still you clung around my neck for some time, saying how sorry you were. I hope Carl and Gil live the longest possible goldfish lives. (If they didn't, I tried.)

I spent the day Saturday mostly in bed, curled in a fetal position, and often crying from pain. I tried not to let you see. You orbited around me like a little satellite of happiness, doing anything you could to get a smile or yet another hug. It wasn't hard. At one point, I had occasion, I forget what (but I expected a much more localized answer than I got), to ask you the question, "Bella, what do you want?" You wrapped your arms around my neck, pressed your cheek into mine, and said, "I just want alllll my family to be happy!" I told you that you were making sure of that. And you do.

Today, it's been much the same. I think my favorite moment was when your Daddy did or said something silly that made me laugh, and you immediately said to him, "Thank you, Daddy, for making my Mommy laugh!" All I could do was laugh more, repeat your thanks, and wonder to myself, "What manner of three-year-old IS this?"

You're a God-given gift to me, you are. To your Daddy as well, but as you know, this space is all about me. Hopefully Daddy will post something once a month or so. Maybe. But you are every bit the sunshine in his solar system that you are in mine. To paraphrase something that you first said about me, "You are the best daughter I ever heard of!" I love you.

Oh, and I don't guess I'd be a proper mother if I didn't, as my mother and her mother before her, probably as far back as the beginning of time, did, wish you at least a wee bit of this, as well. Cherish it all, My Dearest. Not one part of it lasts long enough. Not one.


  1. Ohhhh you make me CRY Belinda!! I'm so glad you have her, your little miracle baby.

  2. sweet. Children are such miracles on a daily basis.

  3. *sniffle*
    That was so incredibly heartwarming. I want to have a baby. I'm so scared that endo will steal that opportunity from us. Your family is an inspiration.

  4. Such sweet moments belinda! Thanks for sharing.


    hope time makes everything O.K. again!

  5. They can be incredible at just the right moments, and it's wonderful. Hope you feel better soon...

  6. What a swwet child Bella is. They do say some profound thoughts at times. It is wonderful to see that tender side of them.

  7. So sorry for your pain, although through it, you are getting to see such a shining blessing in your Bella. Do hope you are back in tip top shape right away (and boy, could I tell a few tales on my husband, who has been occasionally known to focus a weee bit more on his own physical ailment du jour, than mine...ha. men.).

  8. I was going to comment on the previous post, but it seemed to have stopped taking applicants.

    You have our sympathy and prayers! Get well soon.

    Your little girl is definitely a keeper. :)

  9. Bella is the most precious little angel! How sweet that she spent so long snuggling with you.

    I'm so sorry about the pain. It's such a tough thing for you have to go through. Hope you feel better quick.

  10. I had a dream about you last night...actually you and your whole family were in it. And my mom. We were all out at your old house visiting and Bella had a little tiny black and white kitten that she was playing with. It was nice.

    Ugh...Blogger won't let me type my name. It does that sometimes...


  11. Well if ever there was a reason to blog, this entry for Bella to read years from now was it.

    Those cherished memories that if you're lucky to have with your own children, are often times just cob-webs of memories in your mind so many years later. One of my favorites with my youngest son aren't even part of his conscious memory, but I've told him that I know his heart remembers. How nice if he could actually read what my heart was feeling at the time it happened as Bella will be able to do with yours.

    Blog or no blog, these precious moments make our children what they are and what they become as adults whether they remember or not.

  12. I'm so sorry you've had such a lousy couple of weeks. It's not fair to move from migraine to PMS with no break. You don't deserve this and I think you should cry "foul".

    Bella is such a sweetie with such a big heart. She shows how much she loves you, and she knows how to do that because you and Alex have taught her how to recognize love. That's such a powerful thing for such a little girl to understand. It means she has empathy and she can step outside her own persona to feel for you. Some kids never get this.

    I know what you mean about the cuddles and snuggles with your little girl. My girl certainly isn't little anymore, but she still gets in my bed, snuggles under the covers, and gives me hugs and rubs my back and talks to me about all sorts of things. She might be the biggest PITA in the entire world when she has PMS (and oh, she has her first gyno appt coming up in a couple of weeks due to her own menstrual woes), underneath it all she's a sweeting, a loving child, and a wonderful gift from God.

  13. I love sweet memories like this. I love that good lives are filled with them.

  14. You know, I never ever thought I would say this, but if I could be assured she would be like your daughter, I might have reconsidered having children.

    She is a delight and a miracle.

  15. Oh, Belinda, honey -- that is beautiful. Do yourself a favor and offload that to a secondary source so that if anything ever goes sideways with your server, you have that to show Bella. What a precious gift she is. I haven't had kids yet, and I'll turn 40 this year and am single, so it may never happen, but through stories like yours, and through experiencing my niece and nephew (who knew those two could climb inside my heart the way they do?), I get a precious glimpse into the love that comes from being a mother. Thanks so much for sharing, even when you are in so much pain. I love you for that.

  16. Gah! Guess I'll stop complaining about my giant PMS-induced zit now...

    I find Aleve works better for uterine pain than Ibuprofen IMHO.

  17. Belinda, what a beautiful piece- it moved me to tears- she is a special child...
    The ER pics were ALL TOO familiar to me, shudder, but menopause had solved the WHOLE PROBLEM!! NO MORE MIGRAINES, ever!
    Maybe you can look forward to that.
    Grammacello,missing HER babies, sends a hug.... sending a hug to Bella as well.

  18. Belinda--that was just exquisite. Period. I loved this in particular:

    "You orbited around me like a little satellite of happiness,"

    I'm so happy you have your little girl.

  19. AHHH she so sweet out of the mouths of babes. BTW Is your hubby related to my parents? They both snored like chainsaws.

  20. In a blog of a million posts, this is the best one Belinda. The best one.

  21. Even through all the tough times, there's so much love in your house! I'm happy for you!

  22. that was beautiful. thank you belinda.

  23. This was the greatest thing I've ever read from a mother to her daughter. Just beautiful.

  24. Melissa, me too!

    karl, I agree. Priceless.

    erin, I have faith for you. You are so much younger and healthier than I was when I got pregnant, and your endo could not possibly be worse than mine was a couple of years pre-baby.

    jess, thank you...and thank you.

    WWK, you are so right! And thanks. I already feel better today.

    kim, she DO have her moments!

    CM, thanks...and yeah, it might be a "man-thing." I know that his injuries are faaaar more tragic than mine. ;-)

    amie, "sweet" is a very fitting term. Thanks.

    Ariel, just wait. It gets sooooo wonderful. They can absolutely be God's little messengers on earth sometimes.

    elizabeth, thanks. I fight hard not to be jealous of moms like you who are multiply blessed, but times like this serve to remind me just how lucky I am with my little "one."

    Melissa, she would love a kitten, I'm sure!

    judy, thanks. There are times I find myself wishing she'd been a "twofer," like you got! And then, of course, there are times that I think, "Dear Lord, what if there were TWO of her?"

    margalit, thank you for your kind and insightful words. As far as what I deserve, it's probably better that we don't get what we "deserve," cosmically speaking! I've "cried foul" plenty, and I think I'm past most of that. I could be going through your health issues, or Erin's (Poetic Acceptance) grief...the world is what it is, and there are no guarantees.

    dixie, "that good lives are filled with them." I like that. Thanks.

    QoS, no crying! ;-)

    Mr. Fab, with your karma, you'd have most definitely had a girl. I can only imagine. WHOOO, the eye-rolling she'd do! And I'll try to remember to post when she's hollering about how she CAN'T wear that shirt with those shoes, or can she PLEASE, for the fortyleventh time, have some jellybeans, or some such.

    sheryl, aw, go on, you. ;-)

    jessica, thanks--you're sweet. Yeah, I had given up on the idea, too, and came to all this late in life. I'll be 40 this year, too! You just never, ever know.

    deodand, HA! Yes, I would trade for a zit, happily! Alleve does not work at all for me, only ibuprofen and narcotics, usually together. Before the last surgery, I was under the care of a pain-management specialist. Blecch.

    grammaC, since I may be looking at a hysterectomy (and it's the 21st century, BTW, could we have a new term?), let's hope that's true! I wouldn't be at all surprised.

    zelda...the thought of someone being happy for me because of my little happy-making girl...well, it makes me happy!

    lynne, Awww.

    dan, coming from you, that's really saying something.

    cece, it ain't always roses and sunshine, but hopefully there will always be a balance.

    nita, thank YOU.

    erin, coming from YOU, I'm humbled. My heart has ached for you lately, without a clue of what to say or do. Just sending love and prayers.

  25. I'm new to your blog. I've read back to some of your linked posts. I like it here. I feel among someone who I can relate to in a few matters. Thanks.

    In the words of The Terminator- "I'll be back.". *smile*