Perspective

Uterus Twinges Anyone?

I’ve birthed two children.  Two baby girls.  In all of my childhood visions (and in some adult ones), I always had three little girls.  Heck, I’ve even named #3.  Charlotte is the name of my third princess.  Now, let’s float down from the land of unicorns and pixie dust.  In every creative, adventurous woman lies a strong imagination and these visions are just that.  Visions.  I’ve made my mark on the birthing scene.  I’ve hung up the stirrups.  I’m all done. 

So now, let’s talk about what happens when I bug down the baby aisle in Meijer to shortcut my way to the cereal.  Something catches my eye.  It’s pink and white and made of the softest material imaginable.  A blanket.  Or it’s purple and yellow and it just might be the most adorable frilly Easter dress that was ever made for a 3-month old.   I stop.  I pick it up.  I usually smell it (yep, I’m big on smells).  It smells like Dreft or satin, or has the hint of something made by Johnson and Johnson.  I probably rub my cheek to it.  And there it goes.  It is what I (and my best friend, Andrea) have always called a Uterus twinge.   If I were still breast feeding, I’d likely be able to feed a small village after this feeling succumbs me.  I usually stop then and look over the baby food, the rice cereal, the boppy pillows, and the new and improved baby gear that is so much cooler than I ever remember.  I let myself feel sad or melancholy that I’ll never again experience those raw, purely joyous moments of new motherhood.  It’s like a small moment of Heather-silence.  And then… I’m off.  Gotta get to the cereal aisle. 

I had these twinges before becoming a mother, in early adulthood while holding a relatives new baby or while gazing at an infant sleeping in church.  I chalked them up to being normal, as I so desired to be a mother one day.  I assume that every one-day mother (in its many forms) experiences these delightful twinges of womanhood.  But when you are solid that YOU’RE DONE, why do I keep getting tripped up on my path to the produce section?  Or why when I get a whiff of pink baby magic am I transcended to my old nursery rocking chair humming lullabies?  For the record:  It is not a sign that I’m not done.  There will be no Charlotte.   My conclusion is that it’s God’s way to remind me of those blissful moments...To allow me to recall the smells, feels, and memories of a phase preciously stored away.  It’s His way of giving me a gift.    

I fully expect to experience these mind-blanking uterus twinges until I’m no longer upright.  I think they’ll always happen.  And hopefully one day, I’ll be able to draw from my experiences of being a grandmother as well.  I sometimes wish that we could be like Whoopee and Patrick in the movie Ghost…I’d love for my two girls to be able to jump into my being during those world-halting moments.  I’d love for them to feel my heart as I remember those times.  I’d love for them to see my memories flashing about.   They’d feel love like they’ve never felt it before.  It’s my” mother-mission” to live out the rest of my days telling them and showing them of this love.