Joy. As defined by Webster's: delight; gaiety, a state of happiness or felicity; BLISS.
I admit to feeling very little of that the past 18 months. This new piece of parenting I have been on - that of taking care of my parents, has been draining. It is has involved stress. It has involved time. It has involved fear. It has involved details and demands, months away from my husband. And it has involved deep, lasting loss.
Saturday will mark one year since my father passed. I miss him every day. I find myself wanting to call and share something, only to remind myself he is gone. That feeling has been so heightened the past week. Not because of loss, but because of gain.
After holding my breath since March when Culley told me she was pregnant, I got one of the greatest honors of my life last Tuesday. I was there in the delivery room with her, Sean, and his mom, as baby Marlowe came into this world. And I so wanted to call my Dad. Unclepap was all about the babies.
I have heard it countless times from friends who have been on this road already, but now I know they are right: being a grandparent is the most amazing thing in the world. Watching your child become a parent is profound - I can still so easily conjure the memories of when she was born. Memories over 30 years old surely shouldn't still be so close, so colorful, yet they are. And now she is someone's mother. He is someone's father. In an instant they realized they, too, will never truly exhale again. That fear is an inescapable component of being a parent. That nothing is about them anymore, that everything is about their precious daughter. Being here with them as they navigate these first few weeks is a gift.
It was this morning as I sat in the rocking chair, trapped under 6 1/2 pounds of sleeping baby, that I felt it. Joy. Pure, simple, sweet joy. I felt present in a way I have not for some time. For two hours I rocked, memorizing every detail, every sleeping expression on her tiny face. Just me, her, and joy. No noise, no demands, no cell phone - just the sound of her gentle breathing ... and the occasional toot. :)
I thought about how lucky this beautiful little girl is - not only because she has been born into the lives of Culley and Sean, two extraordinary human beings; not just because of the circle of love of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends - so many babies are blessed with those. Rather, as I rocked her I thought of the Yes, Virginia emails I have received so far. From parents with little ones, even babies or babies on the way - children who are loved like Marlowe, but whose fortunes just are not the same at this point in time.
Six more children climbed into our sleigh last night. And we also have a Yes, Virginia baby on the way. We will be helping them all. Through your generosity we have already provided $900 in food gift cards, purchased 7 coats, a sleigh of toys, and 5 pairs of boots/shoes.
And the elfing continues. Requests for warm comforters, diapers, art supplies, sensory toys, and more food.
My heart has been lifted by you all as we load the sleigh again this year, by the parents whose hearts are being healed by you, if only for a while, and of course, by the best early Christmas gift I could imagine: a perfect tiny bundle of joy named Marlowe who has changed my world forever.
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Please keep sending people my way. Or if your family needs our help, please ask. It takes a village.
And if you can donate, the usual routes are open 24/7:
Paypal > [email protected] > please do it as Send Money, not as a purchase. If you do it as a "purchase" they withhold a portion of your donation.
Zelle > [email protected]
Venmo - @Linda-Sharp-29
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