Maddi woke up 7 months old today. And she cried. Another tooth, of course.
This sense of loss at the passing of time feels all-consuming these days. I share a story with my mom about Joseph, look in the rear-view mirror and don't see the same baby. I see a boy who wants to leave.
In a book I just finished reading, a woman's counselor strongly advised her not to have another baby while still in therapy. In fact, he recommends that all of his clients wait at least a year after terminating therapy until they even try to conceive. Why is this?
Patients form such an intense bond with their therapist, that, upon severing that relationship, people will search for a new one. Babies bridge that gap between the sad reality of our alone-ness and the hope of connection and intimacy.
Nothing is more intimate than a cuddling, nursing baby, who is still warm from leaving your body. This sweet, small creature - the perfect image of yourself - needs and wants you. Desperately. You alone make this most lovely person happy.
Yes, talk about connection.
This therapist went on to discuss with her the fact that the timing of her strong desire to have a baby just as she was planning to terminate therapy showed her motivation: avoidance of pain.
I think this is why mothers cry through each and every milestone of their children's lives. And I think this is why those of us who are less mature wail and gnash our teeth in front of our children while talking about said milestones.
Our children need us to be strong for them. To encourage them to grow up, be independent, take risks, get hurt, learn love and pain, and - well, to enter the adult world of suffering. Because that is where joy and wisdom and Christ are.
But to do this, they must leave. And we almost can't bear it. It almost swallows us whole. Just the idea of the emptiness, the life's work, the love - gone, is enough to make our hearts gasp.
But we know, don't we, that this is Good? That it is good to see our longing for intimacy and connection? As our children leave us, we are left with this aching hole that needs filling. God will fill us, and that hole (I am learning to see) is good.
It is good, too, to see this now, as they are young. So that we can spend their whole life convincing these children that leaving us is wonderful for them. That nothing would make us more proud than to see them grow.
One day, we will have children who have flourished because we loved them. You know, the real kind of Love, that sacrifices our selves (our longings, tears and hidden sadness) so that they can grow.
I'm looking forward to that One Day, because I will see my son and my daughters, and I think they will have grown up enough to really love me too. With that same real, sacrificial Love that I pray everyday that I could somehow show them.