My parents came home today to bring the twins. They kept them in Texas for 2 weeks in order to help me recover from my mastectomy. In two weeks they'll be one year old. They've changed so much just over the last two weeks since I've seen them. I know it's even more evident and maybe a little heart-wrenching to Arie to see how much they've grown without him. The time didn't seem to matter much once Lisse heard the sound of her daddy's voice. She smiled as if yesterday were the last time she'd set eyes on him.
Karter smiled at me, tongue hanging out as usual. He seemed so happy to see me and everyone else. Then again, he's such a naturally happy boy. Arie held him for a time, then placed him on my lap. As he sat straddling my legs, facing me, I was overwhelmed with joy. His soft gaze melted my heart and we were as we always were, one. He laid his head on my chest to cuddle into me. It was such a familiar place for us both. He stayed only a moment before lifting his gaze to stare at my shirt, then up to my face. Again, he laid his head softly on my chest - and again, only lingered a moment. He reached his little hand up and felt my chest, specifically where my right breast used to be. His gaze turned quizzical and he stared into my eyes for a moment before turning his attentions to other endeavors. I knew then that he knew - Mama was different.
As I sit here writing this, I hear the sounds of joyful play and banter coming from the livingroom only feet away. I'm having a hard time joining them because I don't want to stifle their joy. The tears stream from my eyes and somehow I feel less whole, like so many others who have gone before me. Yet, my emotions have still taken me slightly off guard. I needed a moment alone to contemplate the condition of my heavy heart.
My Mom came into the kitchen a few moments later to make bottles for the babies. Using the microwave, she began to heat a bottle, but couldn't figure out which buttons to push. She said, "Why can't I remember how to use this?" I couldn't contain my anguish and tears as I softly blurted out, "Probably for the same reason I can't tell you how many ounces of formula my babies need now before bed . . . you haven't done it for awhile!" I laid my head on the counter and sobbed. My heart was bleeding and the whole family knew. Arie placed his hand on my back and after a short time, Mom hugged me close.
Later, once most of the house was asleep, Mom shared a story with me. It's one I've heard many times, though now it seemed even more poignant. When she was pregnant with my older brother, my older sister used to sit on her lap and lean forward onto her pregnant belly. That was my sister Lori's favorite place to be, laying over Mama's belly. When Mom came back from the hospital after delivering my brother and Lori sat on her lap for the first time, she leaned forward, then leaned back and gave my mom the most heartbroken look before bursting into tears. She knew Mama was different then too. A part of what gave her such comfort was obviously missing and she was devastated.
As Mom shared this story with me, I felt a sense of relief. It's hard sometimes to let my Mom see me so transparent - to view the rawness of my heart. Something in me is compelled to protect her from my pain. But in this moment, she connected with the nerve-endings of my heart and mind and coated them with a salve that sometimes can only come from Mom. She gave me at 38 what I was not able to give my son at 11.5 months - comfort.
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