In honor of Mother’s Day this weekend, I think we should all talk about belly buttons.
Yes, belly buttons.
A few weeks ago I was in the shower (with the boys, of course, because it’s against the law for mothers to do anything alone) and I had a sudden realization about their cute little belly buttons: they are a tangible, permanent physical reminder that at one point in time, my boys were physically attached to me.
For almost a year, they grew in my belly as I quivered with anticipation at the hope and joy of my future child. I felt them kick and roll inside me; my body fed them every single thing they needed to grow from almost nothing into a whole baby.
Part of my body and soul fed into the little baby growing inside me, and even when they came ripping their way into the world at large and the cord connecting us was snipped, I never stopped feeding my body and soul into their little selves.
I’m a mother. Giving of myself to them will never end.
But once they’re outside of your body, learning to walk and talk, run, play, sing songs and scream at you “NO!”, it’s harder to recognize how Mama’s still funnel their hearts, souls and bodies into those little angel-monsters.
Except for one thing: the belly button.
It sits there, quietly on their tummy, doing not much of anything day in and day out. But it is a reminder that from the moment they were conceived, their lives and mine became intrinsically linked.
Oh, sure, they will grow up into men someday. They will move out of our home, build families of their own, and I will be here with Darrel, watching their lives from a distance (though hopefully not too great a distance!).
The cutting of the cord at their birth is also symbolic, you see. Eventually, to be healthy and happy, they must separate from me to a certain extent.
But that little belly button tells the truth: no matter how much they separate and grow, they were once a part of me.
And in my heart and soul, they always will be.
I will always be willing to give my last breath for them.
While I sat there with the water streaming over me, getting all choked up about my two little boys cute little belly buttons and what they mean to me, it suddenly dawned on me: I have a belly button, too!
I was struck a little speechless as the awareness washed over me.
MY Mom loves me that way, too. MY Mom felt exactly the way I feel about my boys – but about ME. I don’t think I ever really “got” that before.
Even more? We ALL have belly buttons.
I know there are far too many children out there who grow up without mothers, or with mothers who really stink at the job. I know there are children who were raised by loving mothers that adopted them, and therefore had nothing to do with their own belly buttons (except symbolically).
But on this Mother’s Day, I wanted to remind myself, and share with those of you who either HAVE Belly Button Mama’s or ARE Belly Button Mama’s (or both): consider the belly button and all it symbolizes.
Mother’s are amazing for a million and one things, but the most amazing thing about Mother’s is the depth and breadth of their love.
For me, I will not look at a belly button without thinking about the love of a Mother to her Child ever again.
Who knew those little innies and outies could be so poignant?
I’m going to take a moment to publicly share something with my own Mother.
Mom? Happy Mother’s Day!
When I look at my belly button, I think of you.
Thanks for everything. I love you!
To all my Mama readers, I hope you have a wonderful day of respect, honor, and love.
Go blow on some of those cute little belly buttons and get some giggles from your sweet angel-monsters!
HAPPY BELLY BUTTON DAY!
What’s your favorite “Belly Button Mama” experience? What are you doing for Mother’s Day?
Beautiful Analogy!