One of my favorite series as a child was the Ramona Quimby books by Beverly Cleary. These books were written about a young child's perspective of the world. Some pretty funny things happened to Ramona, usually because she was a bit too inquisitive. My mother would read the books aloud to the whole family, usually every night. Even when we would go camping, she would read around the fire until the light got too dim. I remember these times as very cozy family moments and I would like to do the same for my child(ren) some day.
My all-time favorite Ramona book is the one where her parents have another baby, usurping her place as "the baby." Her mother is giving the new baby all sorts of attention and Ramona gets jealous. She worries that her parents won't have enough love for her. In a line that I can still hear my mother reading aloud to us, Mrs. Quimby's response was, "Dear, love is not like a bowl of sugar, only so much to pass around the table. My love for you has no bottom or top, no end. It will never run out, no matter how many people I have to love."
Even though it was written in a children's book, I think that those words are something that even adults need to remember. Love is something that you can give and give.
Now, I am sure you are wondering why this post is on my IF blog. . . wait for it. . .
I have to confess a mother's worst admission. I have favorites among my children. What is she talking about, you might justifiably be wondering.
Well, here is the nitty gritty, down and dirty truth: I loved Gummy Bear so much. And I haven't let myself grow as attached to this baby. Even with all of the great ultrasounds, I still fear the pain of losing this baby. So, I have a wall up. I do the same things with this baby as I did with Gummy Bear, I talk to it, I say goodnight to it, I have rubbed my stomach. But as I am doing it, I feel like a pretender. I feel as if I am only doing it because I should. I fell asleep with my hand on my stomach every night of Gummy Bear's pregnancy. I don't do that with this baby. And I can't seem to give this little one a nickname, despite my best intentions (Pickles was my latest idea). Nothing seems to fit. I feel bad even typing this, it is an evil thought that has been lurking in my head these past few days. It's definitely not something for the baby journal.
So in the words of the great Beverly Cleary: Love isn't a bowl of sugar. I have plenty of love to go around. So why am I with holding back from loving this baby?