Last weekend I had the privilege of watching my youngest daughter Mari’s basketball team win their zone championship, and a spot in the upcoming provincial games. I watched her face as the buzzer went to signal the end of the game, and it was lit with such pure joy that it became one of those pleasure/pain moments that fill you up and catch in your throat at the same time. The team rushed together with hugs and cheers, and it was beautiful to watch.
These are the moments that you can’t imagine when you’re slogging through another day with a fussy baby. I remember when Mari was born, and we realized that though not as unhappy as Michelle had been (an 8 on the Richter scale) she still had things to work out before she was content to be in the world. I carried her daily in the babyTrekker, and nightly too, for that matter, if you count the late evenings. My husband would spell me off, and take Mari for long walks in the woods near our house, while I put our two other daughters to bed. She was a dear baby, a quirky, fun toddler, and is a calm and (mostly) restful teenager. Like her sisters, she is very athletic, and seems to excel at all sports. This is a cause of awe and puzzlement to me, since I was the child who was picked last for dodge ball (or any ball, for that matter.) I confess… I relish this part of my children’s life; that they experience so much joy from their participation in team sports. I also live vicariously through Mari during her games, as all athletically challenged parents do when their child surprises them with a natural ability. I draw the line at screaming at refs, though.
Lately I’ve been making the connection between how we relate to our teenagers in comparison to how we related to them as infants. Though we’ve had our eye rolling moments, and “you totally don’t trust me” times, I feel blessed to be with my children, and enjoy their company so much. I know that feeling is reciprocated, and it feels like a benediction. I tell my customers, “go ahead and wear your baby all day…it won’t spoil them! Share sleep…nurse for as long as you want to, and don’t let anyone say when but you and your baby. Do anything that creates that strong invisible cord between you that won’t be cut by age, or attitude, or even distance. By letting your heart be the road map of your relationship, you’re telling your baby every day, “I trust you, and I’m listening to you. I hear you.” And the teenager remembers.
All those moments our family has shared…from camping with three week old Mari and two children with rampant diarrhea, to reading Harry Potter together way past midnight, to water sliding in the backyard, to first parties, and first boyfriends and onward. These are the moments you don’t think about when they are babies, but they come, and the cord of trust that you develop with your infant still connects you to your teenager. And interestingly enough, the stronger the bond, the easier it is for them to make their way in the world. It’s like math: love + trust = independence. You trust your infant to teach you how to parent, and your children trust you because you are there for them. And then they see the world as a place where anything is possible.
