July 1, 1954
When everyone was little I couldn't even possibly imagine you as adults. You pretty much can't see beyond the laundry, meals, cleaning the floor, making sure homework is done, the piano is practiced, talks ready for church, always needing new shoes, making sure you weren't killing each other, well you get the picture. Now you are all adults. Wow. When did that happen? or when I was in the thick of it, why didn't it happen sooner! Such a paradox of feelings--missing the wrestling on the bed at night and blowing in your face to make you gasp or feeding you lemons just to see your face react, being relieved when there were no more diapers or drinking bottles and happy you could dress yourself.
It is difficult being a woman. You feel things on a different level, not more significant, just different. You look at life differently and your emotions and your body, often push you in directions you didn't want to go. Your body becomes the vehicle that sometimes drives you over edge. Your body is also the vehicle that feels the spirit and gives you the unbelievable ability to guide and direct your family, to give unconditional love when you thought you had none. Your body helps you maintain a family emotionally as well as physically. As hard as it is, I love being a woman. I love being emotional about stupid things and about important things. I love getting all worked up. I love feeling a baby inside of me. I love the actual, physical reality of giving birth. I love the smell of a baby next to my breast. So despite the often betrayal of my body, I love being a woman.