Jesus wants me for a sun bean!

This is how Ava sings the song. Don't ask me what a sun bean is though. She's such a funny little girl and every day I wish I could bottle her childhood and keep it forever. There are times when she is in her own little world, dancing or singing and I just watch intently and wish I could always remember this moment. Capture it like a butterfly in a net. But I know the mind is like a sieve with so many details draining through leaving only bits and pieces of the original moment. Already the baby I used to recognize in her face is all but gone.

It's true that you never fully grasp how much your own parents love you until you, yourself, become a parent. The heartsickness and the worry, the sharp poignancy and pride, the overwhelming feeling that it's all going by too fast. Most parents do the best they can with what they know and who they are. I count myself extremely fortunate to have had the childhood I had. Now I worry if I'll ever measure up to my parents. On the graph of patience my mother's patience level is at Job while mine is holding steady at Donald Duck.

For any or you that don't know, I had a long labor. 30 hours in total. I took home a lot of truths from the night Ava was born. One was that my body can do anything. Another is one I learned from the nurse who helped deliver Ava. The worst part of my labor was right at the end where I stayed dilated to a 9 for three hours and was seemingly making no progress whatsover. The place at the back of my neck where they had put the tube where I received pain killing medicine from my earlier epidural was driving me crazy laying on it. I could only lay on one side as every time I switched to the other Ava's heart rate went down. Brig's insistance at turning my hospital stay into a frenzy of ESPN marathon viewing was grating on my last nerve and if I had to have one more change of nurses I was going to choke the new nurse. I felt a bit vindicated as the last one I had I vomited on. Although, in true nurse style, she was alarmingly casual about it. I remember telling my husband that I was never doing this again.

When the nurse came back to check on me after those three hours and told me the news that I still hadn't fully dilated I cried and yelled angrily in equal measures. That's when the nurse decided to give me a dose of tough love. She said firmly, "Listen, this is your first child birth. Once you're dilated you will have to begin pushing. For a first time mother that usually takes 2 to 3 hours so you've got to get prepared for that. You ain't seen nothing yet." I remember blinking back my tears and repressing the urge to tell the lady exactly what I thought of her. I don't know why I didn't, any effort to make a good impression at this point was out the window. There's something about having total strangers view you whale sized pregnant body...all of it, that just takes the winds out of your sails. I remember thinking, do what you have to, I have no dignity left, just get this baby out of me.

When I was fully dilated it took me fifteen minutes before the same nurse strongly advised me to "stop" pushing. Any woman who has given birth naturally knows that that's like asking the waves to stop crashing on the shore. When the doctor got there, it was just one more push and out came my little daughter, even then so quiet and calm.

I've thought back many times on my labor and thought often of the nurse that gave me some good advice. If she had been completely honest she would have said, "Listen, lady. This is motherhood. This is all-consuming. There are days when you will look around you and wonder how you ended up in this untidy house with all manner of food from sticky little fingers smeared on the sweatshirt you pulled out of your husband's closet and you'll actually debate aloud if you've put on deodorant for the day because you honestly can't remember. There are days you'll wander around the house bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. You won't be able to remember when you felt sexy last. There will be nights of sleeplessness worrying about all the perverts out there and how in the world you will ever be able to keep your child safe from the evil existing in all corners of society. You'll worry about if you're child will make friends and if those friends will be nice to her. You'll worry about future boyfriends breaking her heart or even more about the boyfriends that will make her fall head over heels. You'll worry if you're giving enough hugs and kisses and "I love you"s to last through the rocky adolescent years. You'll worry if you're teaching her all the things she needs to know about right and wrong and God and faith. You'll worry if she will make good decisions. And if she doesn't you'll inevitably blame yourself. You'll lament the passing of time because you won't get a second chance. Childhood is a one shot deal. So you better prepare yourself. Motherhood is a lifetime proposition. You ain't seen nothing yet."