Seven short years ago, I became a mother. The birth was traumatic. I remember having the nurse and the anesthesiologist pushing hard on my stomach while the O.B. was working magic with forceps to bring Stacy into the world healthy and strong. After she was born, she was blue, and they couldn't find a heartbeat. But she recovered quickly. Even so, she went to the NICU and was 2 hours old before I held her in my arms.
Not really realizing that the mother was supposed to be in charge, I let her set the pace. I fed her on demand, she slept near me, and I carried her as much as I possibly could, talked to her constantly, and taught her that she deserved to be entertained CONSTANTLY. Whoops! Luckily, she had a father to correct all my mistakes.
Stacy taught me so much. She came with an innate love for others. She quickly became at ease with all female adults, and when we would go to playgroups she would sit on whichever mother was the closest. I don't think I would have every made any friends without Stacy's blue eyes and intense stare beckoning the comments of others. I felt like such a good mother with her. She spoke so early, she walked at the "perfect" time, she could climb up to the slide and slide down by herself at 15 months of age. Truly I thought I'd borne a perfect child.
Of course, a few years, and reality hits, and you discover that your own child is blessedly normal in their own extraordinary way. And you love them more and more each year.
I miss Stacy crawling into bed with me first thing in the morning. (She's the only child who will EVER get away with that.)
I miss Stacy sticking up for me when Pippi and the Warlock decide to tickle me too hard.
I miss Stacy asking me to read a new book.
I miss her helping me in the kitchen.
I miss her keeping an eye on Pippi.
I miss her pretending to be my swimming coach during a swim workout.
I miss her sand box creations.
I miss her sweet love notes and drawings.
But I know I'll see her again, and I know that things will be better than ever. Thank goodness for the Gospel.