Babyhood

Satin and Pink

Today I found my baby book which had been packed away for many years. With a slight musty smell and pages a bit yellowed, the sixty-one year old book rested in my lap.

As I began to open the cover, the person who came to mind was my dear mother.

She is the person who purchased the book and wrote in it, keeping meticulous records of height and weight, family linage, first words, immunizations, accidents and illnesses, places visited...and of course the photographs of a baby girl and then a toddler girl and then a kindergarten girl.

What was my mother thinking when she was pregnant with me? The war had just ended, my Daddy was home and a little boy (my big brother) already filled the house with laughter and fun.

I know she was hoping for a baby girl. She has told me so. The year was 1947 and she often tells the story that I was actually six weeks late in coming...due in August, but not born until October.

As I paged through the book I thought of her and her hopes and dreams for me when I was just a tiny new person. I can imagine the love she felt when she first held me because I have held my own newborns. I know just how she felt dressing me in a pretty, soft pink dress because I have three daughters of my own. I can indeed imagine the hopes and dreams she had for me, because of course, some things never change, but rather go on from generation to generation.

A small envelope with a locket of my hair fell from the book. It was such a strange feeling to touch and see the hair that was mine when I was so young. I pictured my mother trimming the little curl from a squiggly little girl. The thought made me smile. I can just see her searching for the tiny envelope and then labeling it, "Linda's hair 18 months."

A surreal feeling came over me as I realized how priviledged I am to be the fulfillment of her longings for a girl to love and raise. I hope that I have indeed been worthy of that love and have been able to pass that love on to my children and now my grandchildren.

I know that whenever she thinks of me she sees beauty. She tells me so. I am blessed to have her so near and I am blessed to have her so able and lovely at age 86. And you know, whenever I think of her I see beauty. Oh, the circle of life is an amazing thing isn't it.

Chubby knees and baby teeth, big brown eyes and dresses with lace, rosey cheeks and teddy bears, lullabies and a rocking chair, first words and first steps, hair ribbons and baby dolls--the dreams for a baby girl complete. I feel the joy today that my mother must have felt when she kept this special book about me, just for me. I imagine it was one of the most delightful tasks of her young motherhood. I wonder if she can imagine just how much her record keeping now means to me.

Thanks Mother Dear for being so dear.

Thanks for dreaming, thanks for loving, thanks for holding, thanks for caring...

... and thanks for all the memories...the ones in the old satin book and the ones in my heart.

I love you and I love being your baby girl.