Life With Elise

Mother’s Day started for me while pregnant with Lane, my first child, over 9 ½ years ago. It was a surreal day, because, not having even seen my child yet, it was hard to think of myself as an actual “mother”. These days, it’s a lot easier to see a “mom” looking back at me in the mirror. As a matter of fact, it’s an old hat by now, a role that I wear with confidence, as if I have been playing this part for more years than I actually have. Even as a college student, studying to get my Marketing degree, I daydreamed about becoming someone’s mother. I knew then what I am sure of now. Having children would fulfill in me something that I always felt was missing. I knew I wanted to have several kids if possible, and be a stay-at-home mom. (Of course, at 19-years-old, I didn’t know the enormous sacrifice this would take, but would soon enough figure it out!)

With the birth of Elise, my position of everyday mom, morphed into nurse, therapist, doctor, caregiver, secretary, researcher, and crusader for my little girl. It took several years of grueling travel and therapy for Elise, feelings of overwhelming guilt, and major nudging by my family to finally concede to becoming less of those previous titles to Elise, and more of a Mama again.

Ty holds his own special place in my heart. He was my baby that brought normalcy back into our lives. From the beginning, I soaked up the experiences that most moms may tend to overlook with their third child. I imprinted all of the typical occurrences, mundane routines, and ordinary happenings with each of his days. I missed all of this with Elise, and it was crucial for me to regain the normal development and upbringing of a child again. However taxing and exhausting having another kiddo following a child with severe brain injury is, for us it has been more than worth it! His existence has alleviated much of the sadness and heartache that was felt by my husband and me.

My Aunt Sissy (Phyllis) recently gave me a painting that she created for me. It shows me standing on a cliff, with a beautiful sky in front of me. I am extending my arms out to the heavens, turning loose of something beautiful. The picture hangs above Elise’s bed for me to see all throughout the day. My aunt said that when she painted it, she was thinking of me giving Elise to God. She told me to interpret it however I personally saw it.

For now, with Elise still here with me, and sleeping under this painting, I see myself giving my burdens, worries, and anxieties up to God. It is a physical interpretation of my trusting prayer for Jesus to take Elise from me and make her His own each day. This painting will mean something very different to me once she is with Jesus in Heaven. I think that only then, will I see the beautiful “something” that I am turning loose of as Elise herself. Gone from me, but forever in the presence of her God. My aunt’s painting means a lot to me now, but will hold an entirely different significance to me in the future.

The most important thing I have ever done as a mom is to release my children to God. By doing this, I am telling Him, “I trust You”, and “You know best”. This is not particularly hard for me. I find it relieving to know that I am not in total control of these little humans. The Lord holds the reins.

Elise is not my only child. I have two wonderful, loving sons, who fill my life with happiness. So, I am also aware of the many ways I will need to let go of my boys as they become teenagers, young men, and even husbands and fathers. This relinquishing of our children does not end with childhood, although it is certainly an important time to begin. The earlier, the better. I want to put God in charge of these three souls that He created.

Mother’s Day, to me, means more than a foot rub, homemade gift, or being taken out to lunch. This day carries with it a deeper meaning of who I am as the mother of Lane Christian, Elise Caroline, and Ty Christopher. To them, I am a giver. I release them to the Lord, trusting Him with their days, nights, struggles, achievements, and most importantly, their eternity.

Mama and Lane

Mama and Elise

Mama and Ty

Mother’s Day Gifts

Kind of a silly picture of Elise, but she is happy and that makes me happy. I love the scribbles at the bottom made by Elise and her teacher working hand over hand.

This frame came home with Elise from school today. I will keep it forever.

This heart box was a Mother’s Day gift from Lane several years ago. He bought all of the supplies at Hobby Lobby, and was very proud to give it to me. It was on an elastic band that bounced at least a foot and a half each time I took a step. Six-year-old Lane fully expected me to wear it around my neck to church, which I did, of course.

I have no idea what this wheelbarrow was all about. It is another creation from Hobby Lobby. Lane made this many years ago. I like how he included Elise’s name on one side. He put a miniature Bible and mini coke cans in it. Kind of random, but I cherish it!

This is my first Mother’s Day card from Ty. He was very excited to give it to me. He pointed to it and said, “There are flowers! And a McDonald’s!” (pointing at the M in Mother’s Day…) That’s what I call brand recognition!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you Mamas out there!!!

Elise has been thoroughly blessed in her short life to have been held in the loving arms of so many--cradled, hugged, rocked, squeezed, bounced, embraced. For a little girl who has a difficult time showing love back, she sure has received her fair share!

What must it be like to never sit, crawl, roll, walk, or stand up, always relying on others to hold you? It seems to me that, for a child like Elise, who is born without these abilities, being held is the next best thing! She will never understand how blessed she is to have so many laps to sit in, so many arms to hold her.

In Elise’s life, I have not had the experience of holding her in the way I have held my boys. Their legs tighten around my waist, while their arms hold onto my neck like little monkeys. You never realize how much your little one helps out until you hold a child who cannot. Holding Elise is tough. She can’t contribute anything to keeping herself up. Her arms and legs hang, as if weighted down by sand, just waiting to be placed somewhere by me. Her head nods, too weak to keep an upright position for very long. Even as a baby, Elise was either super stiff or completely loose. Never, though, was she the right mixture of the two to aid the one holding her. As she has grown taller and heavier, I have sadly and reluctantly given up on carrying her around. I now call my husband to get her from her bed to her wheelchair, from the bathtub to her bed, or from her bed to my lap. At least I can still hold her while sitting down. This is something that I have enjoyed doing since she was a newborn, but not without its struggles...

Around 4-years-old, Elise’s love for being held by me changed. She began to act uncomfortable, unable to find a good position. My favorite time to hold her used to be after feeding her a meal. Elise’s new behavior after taking her last bite and being cued to the end of her meal by a wipe of the bib across her face, was to then start squirming, struggling, and fighting against my arms. Once she was full, she wanted to be put down, robbing me of that coveted time of holding her close, patting her back, and just enjoying her. For a long time, I would just give up trying. I couldn’t very well tell her to “cut it out and get still!” So I was forced to take her to her bed or put her on a blanket on the floor. I would accept her request to be let go, and would instead stretch her muscles or brush her hair to satisfy my desire to be “with” her. I slowly began to realize, though, that I was truly missing out on something big with her. By not holding her, I was finding myself disconnected and lacking something in our relationship. I caught on to the fact that if I would just let her fight through it for a few minutes, she would realize that Mama’s not giving up either. She now finds her way through the cycle of wiggling and restless tossing and turning, only to end up submitting to my arms, settling in for a much needed rest in my lap.

Only when she tires out, will she give in. This reminds me of our relationship with God. He will hold us, offering us safety and unconditional love, despite our squirming and fighting against Him. We can always count on Him as our ultimate parent to hold us close, just as our children trust us to do.

Holding and carrying our kids is primal. It not only serves as needed transportation and protection from the world, but it also fulfills something emotionally within us. My mom has admitted to carrying me through the Longview mall until my feet were dragging the ground (shame on you, Mom). In our arms, children find safety. They feel our strength, and enjoy resting on us, recharging their bodies and spirits.

I will definitely miss the memories made by my boys over the years as they continue to grow older. Lane would gently pat my back as he rested his head on my shoulder, always the compassionate one. Ty likes to press his chubby, warm cheek next to mine while being held, allowing me to feel his young skin.

Not experiencing these kinds of moments with Elise most likely drives me to overdo the babying of Lane and Ty. I often motion for them to each come to me, crawl into my arms, and stay.

“Just for a minute,” I will tell them.

At least the sadness of the loss of my ever growing boys is softened by the fact that no matter how old Elise gets, she will never deny my need to hold. I have been given a “forever baby” to fill my arms, my lap, and my heart, fulfilling my desire to hold tight to all that God has given me.

When I picture a mother holding her child, my mind immediately goes to the movie “Passion of the Christ”. It is the ultimate imagery of the love between a mother and her child. Mary’s love was carried on from the stable all the way to her son’s crucifixion. In a particularly poignant scene, as Jesus was carrying His cross through the streets, He falls, while continuously being pelted with rocks and spit upon. When His mother sees this, she is immediately reminded of when He was a little boy, running along a path. He suddenly trips and falls, catching her attention. Mary ran to Him with great concern, picking Him up and cradling Him safely in her arms. Thirty years later, she again runs to Him, desperately wanting to give Him that same comfort. That scene is hard for me to watch. Maybe because of the fact that I myself know that love for a child, but lacking the ability to understand the pain involved in her hurt of not being able to grab Him and Hold him in his time of need.

If compared to the perfect life of Christ, our shortcomings are themselves major disabilities in the eyes of the Lord. We can always, though, rest in the knowledge that He welcomes us to crawl up into His lap for comfort and peace, in the same way that we invite our little ones into our arms, naughty or not. We will never grow too old or too disobedient. He extends an open invitation to us all.

Lane and Ty, born 6 years apart, both had a unique way of asking to be held. Each one of them would approach me, gaze upward, and say, “Hold you.” Apparently, they were taking the phrase away from my question when I would ask them, “Do you want me to hold you?”, or “Let Mama hold you.” Isolating those two words, and using them to request being held was such an endearing thing to hear as a mother. (Ty still says it, and I will not be correcting him any time soon!) What I would give to hear these words from Elise! Instead of being summoned in this way, she has her own style of asking me to pick her up. I know the cry when I hear it. The tone and intensity says:

“Mama, hold you.”

And hold her I will. As long as I can physically do it, I will enjoy cradling, embracing, hugging, squeezing, cuddling, and loving on my forever baby girl.