On Motherhood and Marriage

love
Pronunciation: \ˈləv\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English lufu; akin to Old High German luba love, Old English lēof dear, Latin lubēre, libēre to please
Date: before 12th century
1 a (1) : strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties (2) : attraction based on sexual desire : affection and tenderness felt by lovers (3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests b : an assurance of love
2 : warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotion

friend(ship)
Pronunciation: \ˈfrend\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English frend, from Old English frēond; akin to Old High German friunt friend, Old English frēon to love, frēo free
Date: before 12th century
1 a : one attached to another by affection or esteem b : acquaintance
2 a : one that is not hostile b : one that is of the same nation, party, or group
3 : one that favors or promotes something (as a charity)
4 : a favored companion

de·vo·tion
Pronunciation: \di-ˈvō-shən, dē-\
Function: noun
Date: 13th century
2 a : the act of devoting b : the fact or state of being ardently dedicated and loyal

joy
Pronunciation: \ˈjȯi\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French joie, from Latin gaudia, plural of gaudium, from gaudēre to rejoice; probably akin to Greek gēthein to rejoice
Date: 13th century
1 a : the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires : delight b : the expression or exhibition of such emotion : gaiety
2 : a state of happiness or felicity : bliss
3 : a source or cause of delight

work
Pronunciation: \ˈwərk\
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English werk, work, from Old English werc, weorc; akin to Old High German werc work, Greek ergon, Avestan varəzem activity
Date: before 12th century
1 : activity in which one exerts strength or faculties to do or perform something: a : sustained physical or mental effort to overcome obstacles and achieve an objective or result b : the labor, task, or duty that is one's accustomed means of livelihood c : a specific task, duty, function, or assignment often being a part or phase of some larger activity

sub·ju·gate (subjugation)
Pronunciation: \ˈsəb-ji-ˌgāt\
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): sub·ju·gat·ed; sub·ju·gat·ing
Etymology: Middle English, from Latin subjugatus, past participle of subjugare, from sub- + jugum yoke — more at yoke
Date: 15th century
1 : to bring under control and governance as a subject
2: to give oneself over to a greater cause

sub·li·mate (sublimation)
Pronunciation: \ˈsə-blə-ˌmāt\
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): sub·li·mat·ed; sub·li·mat·ing
Etymology: Middle English, from Medieval Latin sublimatus, past participle of sublimare
Date: 15th century
1 a : sublime 1 b archaic : to improve or refine as if by subliming
2 : to raise the expression of an emotion or impulse to a higher level, expressing the emotion or desire in a moral and noble manner. - to enoble oneself by diverting one emotion to a purer one.

wor·thy (worthwhile)
Pronunciation: \ˈwər-thē\
Function: adjective
Inflected Form(s): wor·thi·er; wor·thi·est
Date: 13th century
1 a : having worth or value : estimable (a worthy cause) b : honorable, meritorious
2 : having sufficient worth or importance

Hope

I'm going to let Shel Silverstein do the talking today. I love this poem about living in the moment with hope and optimism in the face of unlikely odds.

SNOWMAN

by Shel Silverstein

'Twas the first day of the springtime,
And the snowman stood alone
As the winter snows were melting,
And the pine trees seemed to groan,
"Ah, you poor sad smiling snowman,
You'll be melting by and by."
Said the snowman, "What a pity,
For I'd like to see July.
Yes, I'd like to see July, and please don't ask me why.
But I'd like to, yes I'd like to, oh I'd like to see July."

Chirped a robin, just arriving.
"Seasons come and seasons go,
And the greatest ice must crumble
When it's flowers' time to grow.
And as one thing is beginning
So another thing must die,
And there's never been a snowman
Who has ever seen July.
No, they never see July, no matter how they try.
No, they never ever, never ever, never see July."

But the snowman sniffed his carrot nose
And said, "At least I'll try."
And he bravely smiled his frosty smile
And blinked his coal-black eye.
And there he stood and faced the sun
A blazin' from the sky--
And I really cannot tell you
If he ever saw July.
Did he ever see July? You can guess as well as I
If he ever, if he never, if he ever saw July.

(taken from Where the Sidewalk Ends, the poems and drawings of Shel Silverstein)

Fear

Yesterday evening was ticking along like any evening - I was in the dining room practicing music with my son, my husband was in the kitchen giving bedtime snack to the little ones. Suddenly I heard my husband call for me with an urgent note of desperation in his voice. I ran to the kitchen to see him holding our three year old daughter over the sink, her face bright red, wild panic in her eyes, her arms flailing about. She was choking on a grape. The perfect little slippery sphere had lodged in her airway and had completely blocked it. There was no sound coming out of her, she couldn't cough, she couldn't cry, she couldn't breathe. Pure panic.

After what felt like an agonizingly long time the grape popped out with a little "plop" sound. My husband had held her in a football hold, head angled down and whacked her on her back. Our daughter caught her breath and hung on tight to her Daddy's shoulder as he comforted her. My healthy, strong, sturdy little girl seemed suddenly so fragile, so breakable; so vulnerable.

Life can change in an instant. Yesterday that instant brushed briefly over our heads before flitting back into the shadows. We held our daughter a little closer yesterday evening, gave her a few extra goodnight kisses, brushed the curls off of her forehead a little more tenderly as she lay peacefully sleeping in her crib and felt very very thankful.

Loving someone opens us up to the possibility of great pain. I remember watching the movie Shadowlands, the biography of CS Lewis. There is a scene in that movie where CS Lewis and his wife, who is dying of cancer, talk about their love for each other. Mr Lewis's wife comforts him, saying that the pain he will feel upon her death is part of the love he feels for her now. The two are intertwined. To avoid great pain one has to avoid the joy and fulfillment that comes with real Love.

When I was a little nitwit know it all of a teenager I remember shaking my head at my mom as she became emotional about a news story and telling her that she couldn't take on the cares of the entire world; that she couldn't let all the sad stories on the news affect her so deeply. But I grew up and as an adult and as a parent I now find myself reacting the same way my mother did - feeling a gut reaction to stories of children affected by abuse, abduction, or victims of accidental death. It is impossible not to feel great empathy and sorrow for those children and their families and its very easy to imagine being in a similar situation with my own children and the horror and pain that experience would involve.

As parents we fall quite helplessly in love with our children. We want nothing more than to raise them up, guide them on their path and grow old watching them lead fulfilling and happy lives. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, those dreams for our children are thwarted. Trying to make sure my kids make it to adulthood alive and undamaged can seem like an impossible dream and the fear of what the world can and will do to my kids can become quite paralyzing in those dark, oppressive, midnight moments.

I remember having vivid, unbidden visions of tumbling down the stairs as I walked gingerly down the stairs with an infant in my arms. Or having a startlingly real video playing in my head of my van being smashed up as I drove my children somewhere in a snow storm. I don't think these moments were examples of a psychiatric breakdown, rather, I've heard from other parents they have had these images too - they seem like our subconscious brain trying to keep our sleep deprived parent selves alert and poised to keep our little ones safe. Parents seem hardwired to do all in their power to keep their children safe and happy.

Yes, opening ourselves up to love opens us up to the potential for great sorrow. Life is short and fickle and the floor can drop out from under us at any moment no matter how careful and prepared we are. But opening ourselves up to love means we get to delight in many, many wonderful moments, experience joy and hope and fun and meaning in our lives.

Love of any kind is not always easy, and parental love can be quite scary at times, but that's Life: the joy and the heartache of it, and its what makes it all worthwhile.

I don't think I'll be serving grapes for awhile though.