What am I suppose to do with a baby?

I grew up an only child. We didn't socialize much. I wasn't in clubs. I had few friends. We had only a couple of relatives we visited. I was more of a tomboy, never really playing with dolls. So, here I was at 29, which is a nice ripe age to have a first child, with hardly a clue what to do with her, and no one to really guide me.

I remember one day when she was about 6 months old, as I carried her down from the bedrooms to start our day, I was staring at her quite puzzled. I couldn't believe I was in complete charge of another creature. I had a strong sense of disbelief, like someone somewhere had made a mistake. I kept staring at her as we walked slowly down the stairs, wondering to myself, what in the world am I suppose to do with you? Not in the short term sense, but in the grand scheme kind of way. I just felt the depth of the responsibility I had in front of me. And as if to sense exactly what I was thinking she looked back at me and lifted her cheek up to my mouth in a very ceremonious way, so as to receive a kiss. I rightfully gave her a huge kiss and understood so clearly the answer I had been seeking.

I didn't have to worry. There wasn't some master formula I had to follow. I didn't have to torture myself with doubts, blame or a sense of duty (not that I've managed to escape that completely). But I learned then that the only thing I had to do was love her. That's it. Children can do without so much, from the basics, like decent shelter, stable food, to the deluxe, like fabulous birthday parties and trips to Disneyland. But not a single child can do without love. So that right there is my only true obligation to her and I am so truly honored and grateful to do it.

It's just so ridiculously simple too. She is here for me to love. How great is that. Loving her is easy, that love is always there, but doing everything from that place of love, that has sometimes been the challenge. Disciplining from a place of love and not anger, responding from a place of love and not frustration, letting love be the source of all our interactions isn't always possible, but the journey has been a great one all the same.

And when the heavy hitter doubts start to kick in, the big questions, the distress. I sooth myself with the thought that if I'm doing the best I can and I'm doing it with love then nothing else can be asked of me. Sure, maybe there was a better response, maybe a better choice, a different decision, a better way, but if the way I chose (we chose) was the best way we saw fit at the time, then so be it. I can live with that. I figure most children have some reprimands of their parents anyway, some gripe or other and I'm pretty sure when it comes it will catch me completely off-guard. Like something I never even considered, probably. Because, that's just how life is. Never let yourself get too comfortable, because the game is always changing. lol But rolling with the punches and not taking any of it too seriously keeps it all pretty loose and fun. I think.

The Virgin Mary stood at the foot of my bed

Some people may find these stories sacrilegious maybe, I don't know. I'm just relaying them as they happened, or as clearly as I remember. They are not fiction, they are not loosely based on what happened, or my imagination. These are actual events. This particular story I've only told once or twice. I don't know why. It's a story that isn't at the forefront of my thoughts maybe. Yet, somehow, maybe because of this event I feel a very close bond with the Mother Mary. Even though, as I said before I don't endorse any religion and I don't idolize religious figures. Yet she invokes in me a deep sense of reverence and love. I'm not here to argue who she was, what she represents, which religion believes in her and why. Everyone has to figure that out for themselves in life, or let it be dictated for them... whatever works I suppose.

I was about 8 I believe. I had a live-in nanny that would go home on weekends. She was not very nice to me. I don't have a single positive memory of this woman. She didn't torture me, except to force me to eat the food she cooked, which was always horribly spicy. I remember sitting at the table for hours, not being able to swallow the fiery food, but I survived and here we are today. (lol)

She would always sleep in my room, to the right of my bed, on a soft foam filled folded chair that would open into a thick pad or bed. We never really talked or had much to say to each other, usually. She would say her prayers and that would be that. This one particular night I was awakened by her scream. I looked over the side of the bed as she lay sobbing and asked her what happened. She said that she had seen the Virgin Mary at the foot of my bed staring at me. I remember asking her some questions and she was unusually responsive to me that night. I asked her if that had been a bad thing and her saying that it wasn't. I remember her crying for a bit of time and me trying somehow to console her and falling back asleep. Soon after this occurrence she stopped sleeping at our house and very soon after that quit altogether.

I don't know if it's really true. I didn't see the vision. I think based on her reactions and what transpired that it did happen. I like to think it happened. Who's to say though.