The parents rock their newborn and look into his wide eyes. This is not what they expected. The tiny bundle begins to wail, and the mother herself sobs heavy sobs of exhaustion. “What have we done?” they asks themselves, believing they have made a mistake. This intruder cries all the time, and where there was once time to rest, now there is only screeching. It grates on both of them. Their relationship is being cemented, but not as they’d hoped. They are too far apart, driven away from one another by the reality and loneliness of new parenthood, and their greatest fear is that they will remain that way forever, separated by the loss of what they once had. The tears come, and they will never cease. Not having a choice, they march bravely on. This is love.
Gradually, peace returns. They look into the baby’s eyes and sees the miracle working. The toothless smile, the coos, the fluid movements all draw them to the child, and together they celebrate tiny milestones that only a parent could understand. They seal the bonds and know they can never be broken. Once again, the family is intact, and the new piece fits perfectly, as if it has been there all along. Was there a time before the child? Surely it was never as good as this time. This, too, is love.
They grow together, and add another. Again there are rifts, and again the newcomer takes its place. Again they all feel as if they have been whole forever. The parents fear that it will not last. Secure in their places, the little ones know no fear. There are good times and bad, but always they are together, and always they are fundamentally happy. They teach each other and love each other, and nothing can destroy what they have built. This is love.
Eager, the young ones strike out to find themselves. The parents know what their children seek and where it lies, but they must allow the search. “What can we do?” they ask themselves. They worry for the young ones, but they know the ways of the world, and they must trust the work they have done. There will be more work, of course, but it will never be the same. They watch their children grow families of their own, and provide what help they can. This is love.
Sarah Jenne Foster
January, 2011
