I carried her upstairs to the bed remarking on how light she still is. Still sleeping, she leaned easily and trustingly into my shoulder. I whispered into her ear "I love you so much, baby girl. You are never going to know how much you are loved."
I sang her "her" song as I tucked her in. It's a Five for Fighting song called "If God Made You" and while pretty much the whole song is perfect from me to Dia, the part I get choked up on is where he sings "I can't say what I might believe, but if God made you he's in love with me." That is so incredibly true I get tears in my eyes every time I sing it.
If I were a first-time-out parent, I would wonder, maybe even worry a bit, about when this raw love will wear down. I don't think any parent ever believes they will stop loving their children by any means. I just mean that we might get to that place where we get used to their being there. That age where they might grind on our nerves more than delight and enchant us. The time when knowing you love them is more a statement of fact than an emotional, physical feeling.
I think, if I were that first-time-out parent, I would lament my baby girl's looming birthday a bit. I think I would take a precious moment like I had tonight and wish it to last longer. Certainly she's not going to need me so much, eventually she won't cuddle so much, and one day she and I won't even fit on the couch together (that day may come much sooner if I don't stop piling on the pounds!).
But I'm not a first-time-out parent and I can tell you unequivocally that that raw love never fades. Twenty-seven years ago I held my first born child in my arms and danced him to sleep. "Inspiration" by Chicago played on our stereo more often than not because Tim was my inspiration. The lyrics to that song, though intended for a lover I suppose, fit so perfectly: "You're the meaning in my life. You're the inspiration. You bring feeling to my life..." I was so entirely and completely in love and I never before thought I could feel that much emotion.
And nothing - other than I can't lift him anymore - nothing has changed. I watch him play with Dia, or listen to him on one of his rants, or pretend to be annoyed at his habit of picking things up and fiddling with them and later misplacing them, or just watch him be what he's always been - what I was smart enough to step away and let him be - and I love him so much. There are times when I get so overwhelmed with what I feel that the emotion overflows to tears and I have to bat them away quickly or be busted for the sap I really am. Even if he noticed that, even if he understood any of this, he will still never truly understand how much he's loved.
Cheyanne counseled me the other day when I was kind of down. "I've been away for some time now" she told me knowingly, "that always gets you down." It wasn't arrogant of her to say that, she just knows. She loves her people on that highly intensive level I do, so I think she understands a little bit better. But still she, just like Tim and Dia, will never truly understand how much she is loved. She will never understand how I felt sitting in the sunshine only she could bring into a room singing Elton John's "My Song" to her. I'd change the lyrics a little to fit her: "But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song, It's the people like you that keep it turned on. So excuse me forgetting but these things I do You see I've forgotten which one is green and which one's blue..." (on account of the fact she has one green and one blue eye). I have memories of her that are so simple and so amazingly "Cheyanne" and I hold them so dearly. I remember my little 3 year old girl sitting on the floor drawing circles around the holes of a piece of notebook paper happily singing 'bop, bop, bop," while I did my college homework at the dining room table. How could I ever feel that kind of unconditional admiration and love again?
Yet? Same thing. I'm not feeling it again, I am feeling it still. Nothing has changed. Though I doubt she sits on the floor drawing on notebook paper any more, she still lights up the room when she enters it. Her smile can cure anything and when I see her, now a woman more beautiful than anything that should have come from me - well, I still see my little girl and I still love her just as much.
So while I do wish time would slow down its march a peck (particularly the part of it that is marching across my face), and there are certainly going to be things I will miss when I'm no longer the mom of a small child, I take some comfort in knowing how much I love being a parent regardless of their age. If I ever feel down because Dia doesn't feel cool loving me so openly any more, I have Tim and Cheyanne to comfort me until she gets back around to it. And if all else fails, well, I'm sure I can find a song that will cheer me up.
