Baby Love

When my mother was expecting my baby brother, Sean, we prayed each night that God would bless him...along with every other member of our family. Every sultry southern night, we said our child-like prayers in the Florida home where we lived for a short time. I was in about fifth grade and more lonesome for our Ohio home than I ever thought a person could be.

When Sean was finally born, he developed colic several weeks after birth and howled from the depths of his lungs from morning until night. If mom wasn't holding him against her tummy and walking with him, I was. We took turns singing to him, doing our best to soothe his little, aching tummy. It was like that from that day on...one of us always holding sweet baby Sean. And, Sean...howling much of the time.

As he grew a little older and I entered Jr. High, I would push him in the stroller up and down the bumpy Ohio sidewalk...doing my best to keep him happy. I remember his red and white striped bibs and crazy strawberry blond hair that would always stick straight up and out no matter how we attempted to coax it otherwise.

We babied him and mothered him and loved on him something fierce. He was probably one of the most spoiled children in all of the land. And, we didn't even care.

I am ten years older than Sean, and have always felt a mixture of big-sisterly and maternal love toward him. But when our beloved mother, our constant, and the most important person in Sean's world... laid suffering in the last days of her life at the hospice center, my heart ached for him above all others. Those days I felt a bond with my sweet brother, even deeper than before. We walked that path together. I will never forget how he loved her, how he stood by her side, how I watched my baby brother as he was thrust violently into adulthood in the harshest way imaginable. I couldn't protect him. I couldn't keep this harsh reality, this terrible loss from him. He was an adult, of course, and perfectly capable of growing up. But, I wanted to protect my baby brother, to soothe his hurting heart, as I had always done. And, I couldn't. This hurt was one I couldn't take from him.

He has grown into a kind-hearted young man who works hard at his job (with my husband actually), and now, he is a father. My baby brother is a father! While that makes me an aunt (again...because our other brother also has children), I have always felt so motherly toward Sean...and even more so since mom's passing...that I have joked that I "feel" more like a grandma! (I'm not, though...so don't get any ideas about Grandma jokes!!)

I was so excited for the birth of this sweet boy. A baby to hold again, when it has been so long since my arms have held one. My mother loved babies so much. She always said, "A baby is a blessing. No matter how they come to be." And, she is so right. Sometimes the blessing comes unexpectedly and sometimes we are prepared. But, sweet new life...is always a blessing! And, she loved her own baby, my brother, so dearly that she would have been over the moon that he was going to be a dad. Of course, even in our expectation of this new life, we felt the impact of missing her. At the same time, I felt a closeness with her, knowing that she would want me to make it a happy occasion. She would want this child to be celebrated. So, celebrate, we did.

Two weeks ago today, Max Michael was born to Sean and Megan. And, I couldn't wait to get to the hospital. I felt the waves of missing and closeness to mom, mixing in a contradictory blend that somehow made sense as I drove to the hospital. We waited with Sean until they were ready for us to meet Max, and as we walked into the room, I stopped.

(I cropped her name out so because her maiden name is listed on the sign. But, it was there...and is still on that sign today.)

By sheer "coincidence" (I think not!) unbeknownst to them until later, Megan and Max were place in the room on the OB floor that had been dedicated to our sweet mother. They were in mom's room! Even as I longed for mom to share this moment with us...to oooh and ahhhh over Sean's baby with me...to spoil him as rotten as we spoiled my baby brother so many years ago...it was as if she was there, smiling down on us.

I took Max into my waiting arms and felt a love swell in my heart akin to the love I have felt for my own sweet babes. Again, I smiled, knowing how my mother would love him, just as she would love our brother Chris' son, born in the month of her birth. Somehow I could feel the warmth of her love, as if it were filling my own heart and spilling out on to sweet baby Max. If we can see our loved ones from heaven, I have no doubt that she would have been allowed to peek into that moment. If I know my mother, she would have done all the negotiating heaven would allow to be able to see the birth of her grandbaby.

James and Timothy took turns holding him, and grinned like proud cousins.



Sean looked more like a grown-up than ever to me as he held his look-alike son, and at the same time I could still see the two year old with strawberry blond hair looking up at me from his stroller.

James took these pictures of me with Max...





When I looked at them later, I was stunned as the memories swirled into the reality of the circle of life. I had to look twice because with my hair cut short and the expression on my face, I saw my own mother in the pictures of Max and me...when she welcomed my babies years before. I dug up (and scanned) a picture of her holding James nine years ago.



She may not be here physically, but the evidence of her life undeniably lives on in her children and grandchildren.

Now, I'm off to hold Max for awhile! Have a beautiful day!