Momma Did You Know? A Moment with Bill Reflection

For nine months you carried the spawn of love inside you. She announced her presence early on, kicking, reaching, battering the protective shield with a force that belied her size. You fantasized, prophesized, chastised and realized during those long, sleepless nights and restless days of discomfort.

Were you ready for parenthood? Did you have what it takes? How will you ever know, ever fully be prepared, for the crushing weight of responsibility once those nine months end and the cold, hard slap of reality comes crashing down upon you? The doubts, the concerns, the recriminations, all valid and all nonsense, for truth only arrives once the afterbirth is washed away and you hold her in your arms.

Momma did you know?

Did you know she would be sick? The colic, the measles, the coughs and fevers, all attacking her frail body, all demanding her attention, and all strengthening her for the future. Her miseries are your miseries. Her sleeplessness is your sleeplessness. She holds on tight, this tiny bundle of whimsy, seeking comfort from your arms, nourishment from your breasts, and love from your touch.

She will drive you crazy, momma. There will be days when a straightjacket seems the only logical solution, and there will be nights when salvation will be found in a few stolen moments of semi-consciousness, but just when you think you can’t take it a moment longer, she will smile at you, reach out a tiny hand and touch your face, and your heart will melt for the thousandth time with more to come.

Momma did you know?

Did you know about the skinned knees and elbows? Did you know of the unseen dangers lurking in every corner of the house, behind every tree in the yard, and inside every cupboard and cabinet? Her inquisitiveness will be her greatest enemy at that young age. Her desire to test the limits, stretch the un-stretchable, and bumble her way through any obstacle may well be her undoing, but how can a parent protect against natural inclinations?

And that’s really what those first few years are all about….protecting her from harm….and what a thankless and infinite job that is. Don’t turn your head for a moment; don’t avert your eyes or become distracted, because it only takes a couple precious moments for her world, and your world, to come tumbling down.

But then she will smile at you, reach out a tiny hand and touch your face, and your heart will melt once again.

Momma did you know?

Did you know just how miserable those teen years would be? Surely you remembered your own: the diminished self-esteem, the constant battling with self-doubt, and the river of tears that accompanied each year from thirteen to twenty.

Did you remember how painful that first love could be? Did you recall the hours in front of the mirror, wishing the nose was perfect, hoping the hair would straighten, wondering if beauty would ever camp outside the door? Despite all your proclamations that she is perfect just the way she is, you know few of those words are heard or internalized, for once she leaves home in the morning she is bombarded by standards of perfection….the perfect clothes, the perfect body, the perfect image, and it is all so silly and yet all so real to your daughter.

Did you know she would become willful? Did you know she would consider your opinion practically worthless, and seek comfort in peers and possessions? Could you possibly foresee the day when she refused you, mocked you, and said that she hated you?

But then she will smile at you, reach out her hand and touch your face, and your heart will melt once again.

Momma did you know?

Did you know she will break hearts….man after man, suitor after suitor, all in search of the perfect one? You’ll want so badly to guide her, counsel her, save her the hours of sleepless nights as she mends her own broken heart, but you won’t, you can’t, because some lessons just have to be learned the hard way, tear after tear, cry after cry, until Mr. Perfect sweeps her off her feet and your worst horror is realized…she leaves home, starts her own home, and the legacy is continued.

Did you know she would struggle with bad bosses, bad neighbors, and just plain bad people? Did you know she would spend decades fighting the good fight, rising one rung at a time up that ladder of life, only to fall time and time again? Did you know that at your age she would have the same struggles that you have had?

Did you know that when your days are numbered, and you are taking your last breath, that she will sit by your side, smile at you, reach out her hand and touch your face, and your heart will melt once again as she says “I love you, Momma?”

Momma did you know?

Did you know that the day will come when that baby child of yours will hobble where once she ran and danced? Did you know that infirmity will caress her aged body, and pain will be her constant companion?

Did you know that she will struggle with her memory and find it hard, at times, to recall the wonders of her lifetime, and did you know that her child, her lovely child, will sit with her during those final years, and smile at her, and reach out her hand and touch her face, and the melting will happen once again?

Did you know all that when you decided to conceive? Did you sense the magnitude of that decision? Were you aware of the pain to come? The miseries, the tears, and the anguish?

I suspect you knew.

I suspect you simply didn’t care.

I suspect you, like all the mommas before you, embraced the mystery of it all. I suspect you picked up the die of life, rolled them around in your hand, and tossed them loose, hoping against snake eyes and prepared should they fall.

I suspect you know, should snake eyes fall, that you had the perfect defense. I suspect you knew the secret long before that bundle of magic burst forth, and when she finally had come into this world, you looked into her eyes, held her tiny hand, and whispered the secret to your daughter.

“I love you.”

2014 William D. Holland (aka billybuc)

This essay was inspired by a song called “Mary Did You Know,” my favorite Christmas song. I hope you enjoyed my interpretation. Dedicated to my friend Mary.