I was reminded this morning (at 12:44am) what it feels like to awaken in the middle of the night to the cry of an infant. It’s been a few years since that occurred in my life. I stumbled in the dark, unfamiliar surroundings of the hotel room to find my way to my grandson - bumping into the chair, and pretty much being a clumsy mess - but I found the pack-n-play and reached down to pick him up to comfort him. My tired brain couldn’t think for a moment what to do - and my clumsiness had awakened his mother who took him to change his diaper. My maternal instincts began to fire up as I picked him up from the bed and told her I could take care of him. She fixed his bottle then laid back down as I assured her “I’ve raised ten honey, I got this”.

I knew she was tired, and worried for my son, who would have surgery early the next morning, so she went back to sleep as I cared for the tiny baby in my arms. It warmed my heart to feed, burp, and rock this little one. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see his little face looking up to me, his little hand clutching my finger. I held him for a bit, even after he’d fallen to sleep - his belly warm and full of milk, his diaper dry, his heart full of love, held snugly in my arms.... it was like being in heaven. I sat there rocking, remembering many nights, years before, as I had sat rocking my own little babes, night after night - and I felt the love that a mother feels for her young, and it didn’t matter how late in the night it was. It didn’t matter if I didn’t fall back to sleep. I had a baby in my arms - safe, loved, and content - sleeping quietly.

So now, here I am, more than an hour later - giving up on sleeping, sitting here in the dark tapping away at my keyboard. I laid in bed for over an hour, listening to the breath sounds of my grandson, my son, and his woman - feeling content to just lie there in the dark and listen. It was strangely comforting. My mind began to wander, and I thought of all my children - most now grown. Visions of their youth went through my mind, memories of joy holding them, memories of sorrow from difficult times in their lives. Even now, as I think of them - I feel joy to have them in my life, yet also feel sorrow for all the pain they have suffered. The thoughts rambled far and wide, so I decided to just give in and write.

I know I’ll likely be in this situation again, possibly many times in the coming year - as my son faces more surgeries - I’ll bring him to the VA hospital (2 ½ hours away), and sit in hotel rooms with his family, providing the love and support of a mother. I’ll hold my grandson and watch as he grows bigger, and stronger. I’ll watch as the family grows stronger, remembering all the while, how little my son once was. I’ll pass the hours away at the VA hospital playing with this little one and building a stronger friendship with his mom. The time will be well spent.

It is sad to have my sons so harmed from the war, but at the same time, I am so very thankful that they returned, and are in my life still. I realize that many mothers didn’t get to see their sons return from war, so I don’t fret being there for whatever they need - they will always be my babies no matter how big they get, no matter how old they are. I will come to the hospital with my son for as many trips as he needs - and I will sit quietly when they visit and pretend not to notice if they have physical or emotional problems - and just be loving and thankful they are there.

Just when I thought I was through with this bit of typing. I found the most beautiful prayer in facebook - and it’s so fitting to me. “I am a parent dear Lord. I ask nothing from You for me. I only pray that in Your mercy You would grant my children their needs. May their lives be long and healthy. May they achieve all their dreams. May they always live in a world that is free. May they be who they were born to be. And may they know, to their last days, that they were deeply loved by me. Amen.”