Beyond the Physical

It is well known that the mother-child relationship predates the actual birth of the baby. Their bond during the pregnancy goes far beyond the basic nourishment required to grow. During the second trimester, a baby will start to hear a mother’s voice and heartbeat. Listening to these sounds actually helps trigger the growth of the auditory cortex, the part of the brain responsible for interpreting sound. After their birth, newborn babies recognize and are soothed by their mothers’ voices. The fetus also reacts to the emotional responses of the mother, and a joyful and low stress pregnancy can have a positive emotional and cognitive impact on the baby far after the delivery.

It is true that a pregnant woman cannot actually hold her child in her arms, and an unborn baby cannot actually see his or her mother. However, she is undeniably present and influences her baby’s growth and development in so many ways that go beyond the physical.   

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My first memory of you, my dearest mother, was on our first family camping trip. I couldn’t have been more than 3 years old, but I remember it quite vividly. The clear night sky was perfect, and it was the first time I had seen it away from the drowning lights of the big city. The infinite array of stars above me twinkled magically, while a large enticing bonfire was dancing before me. Father was patiently roasting marshmallows over it. I was less than patient, chubby fingers still sticky from my last treat, eagerly reaching for the marshmallow he was blowing on so that I wouldn’t burn myself. Although it was a summer night, it was still chilly. Had it not been for you, wrapping your warmth around me all night long, I imagine that our perfect evening would have been cut short.

Growing up, every year I had to have a different flavour birthday cake. “A different cake for a different year”, as Father would say. Eventually we made a game out of looking for and baking the most unusual cake recipes we could get our hands on. Looking back, I would have to give the first place prize to the parsley cake we made for my 17^th birthday. However, my favourite part of every birthday cake was blowing out the candles. Every year I’d raise myself (and eventually lower myself), to the level of the flames on the candles. Every year, I’d look past the flames and see you, eye level, on their other side, reminding me with a wink to make those wishes count.

When I was 20 I came home from college one weekend, heartbreak fresh on my mind. I hadn’t slept for two days, and I expected no different when I crawled into the hammock in our garden. You came to me, stroking your fingers through my hair and singing to me until, at long last, the land of dreams called my name.

On my wedding day I stared at myself in the mirror. I bit my newly manicured nail. Excitement flowed through me, but as with many soon-to-be brides so did uncertainty. Forever was a long time. Would we make it? Divorce rates were reportedly at an all time high, after all. I picked up the photo of you and Father on your own wedding day from my dresser. I was always told that I was your spitting image. Today, standing in your slightly altered wedding dress, it had never been more true. A new resolve took root. We would make it. With you, standing by my side as you always had, I knew I could navigate through all that life would bring.

What a life it turned out to be! A life filled with the laughter of friends and family, exciting career changes, and, of course, your three grandchildren.

Eric’s career ultimately required us to move away from home, but my fondest memories remain bringing my children to visit you. We created so many memories in our favourite park, basking under the sun with picnic spreads at our feet. Each time, I would make sure the spread was filled with meals from your old cookbooks. Each time I would remind myself to capture a mental image of the children partaking in whichever activity we had planned for the day, whether it was skipping pebbles along the pond, throwing frisbees, or flying kites. I would smile, willing them to stop growing. They never listened.

Time marched, as it always had. The day we said goodbye to Father I was inconsolable, except for the knowledge that you were there to greet him on the other side. “Take care of him”, I whispered under my breath, as they lowered his casket into the ground. It had rained earlier that morning and moisture clung to the grass beneath me and the air around me. Off in the distance a rainbow glistened, and I could all but imagine you and him, hand in hand, walking towards it.

Finally, it was my turn. I went to sleep one night and unknowingly closed my eyes off to the world for good. When my final a breath escaped my lungs and my heart beat its last beat, you were there, as you always had been.

The promised bright light shone fiercely, outlining a path, and there you stood at the other end. I knew it was you immediately. I knew it was you, although we had never actually met. I knew it was you, although we had never actually touched. I knew it was you because I felt the love that emanated from you, as I had felt it my whole life. It was the love that created me, and it was the love that birthed me at the expense of your own life. It was the love that followed me through all my days. Sometimes I visited you, near the pond where Father had scattered your ashes. Mostly though, it was you who came to me - through the warmth of a flame, the caress of the wind, the lullaby of a bird, and the everlasting knowledge that you would never leave me.