I Am A Creator.

Okay, I am a mother. But I did have my part in creating four human beings! Sometimes it boggles my mind when I look at them. Because of me (and okay, my husband, too!) these four people exist. Sit and look at your kids once and think about that. It amazes me that of all the people in the world, I am THEIR mother. Me. No one else.  When they talk about mom, mother, or whatever they choose at the moment to call me, it is ME they are talking about. Whew! That is something to mess with my mind!  I like to tease them about it.  I like to have fun and be crazy and one of them will look at me and shake their head.  That is when I remind them, smiling-I am YOUR mother!

Through the years it has given me much joy and pride knowing that these wonderful growing people came to be because of me. Most of the time I didn’t feel worthy. Some of the time, it was overwhelming.  You have this tiny little being that you need to protect, nurture, feed and care for, in order for it to survive.  Hopefully to thrive.  I loved the baby stage.  I loved everything about it. I loved when they would fall asleep on me and I just couldn’t bare to get up and put them in their crib. I loved seeing that first smile, seeing them learn, explore, crawl, walk for the first time.

I loved the toddler stage.  The beginning of speech, the uninhibitedness of a young human being! I loved how they cuddled, the unconditional love. I would look at them and smile, thinking, I created that!

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I loved the growing up stage. The teenage years. The tough times and all. The scary times, the sad times. The happy and proud times. I loved when a teacher told me that my child was a kind soul.

I love the grown up stage.  The graduations, their exploring, trying to find their way in the world. The crises, the celebrations. The grown up conversations we now have. I wonder what mark they will make in the world, what mark they may have already made.

It is a wonderment to me that I was given this gift of being a mother. It fascinates me to see just what kind of people my children are.  How different from me, yet how alike me they all are in each of their own ways.

I look at old pictures of all of the ‘creators’ before me. All the people who had children before me. I think about all those lives lived and all those people that made me who I am and my children who they are. They ones that made us all possible. None of them are here anymore, but in a way, I guess, they all still are.

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You are the closest I will ever come to magic. ― Suzanne Finnamore, The Zygote Chronicles 

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