A Mother Heart

Something they don't tell you when you have kids is that even though they cut that umbilical cord at birth, an invisible connection is left in place. Sometimes the connections acts like an artery that carries a mother's love, strength and will to the child. Sometimes the connection acts like a vein and the feelings of the child flow right into the mother. You may not believe me, but I can attest the existence of this connection came home to me in a very real way today.

Liesel had a routine check up at the orthodontist- just a 15 min visit. Well, that's what they had told me, anyway. Turns out it was scheduled wrong and was going to take a while longer. She had to get some brackets removed and some new ones placed, which usually isn't a big deal, but the assistant really botched things up. I'm not sure how the assistant arrived at her career choice, but I'm certain she isn't happy with it. This is the second time we've been scheduled with her and she isn't shy about showing her irritation and impatience with Liesel when she won't hold perfectly still. I get the feeling she doesn't really like children. Or dealing with people in general. Or joy. Period.

I became keenly aware of that invisible connection- an artery at first- as Liesel stiffened and writhed in pain. The assistant wasn't interested in being gentle, just in getting the job done and Liesel has a really small mouth. I was seated near Liesel's feet so I rubbed her legs and told her she was almost done buffing off the old glue. Once the assistant nonchalantly said, "Actually, there's a lot more I need to do" and so help me I wanted to grab one of the sharp dental tools and drive it right into her thigh. I willed Liesel strength, my strength, that she would be able to get withstand it all. Through that artery I sent calm and a knowledge this was just temporary.

When it was time to attach the brackets, the doctor noted the assistant hadn't pulled the right ones. He stretched Liesel's cheek open with his dental mirror as the glue ran down her throat and the assistant fumbled in the back to find the right one. Fat tears spilled over her eyes in rivers and again, I willed her all that I had in me. We were almost there, almost done. I gave her a choice of a Jamba Juice or a frosty for lunch since it was clear she wouldn't be chomping down food any time soon. Finally the brackets were in place and she just needed the rubber bands. My artery was still flowing with peace, assurance, confidence.

The assistant pretty much mangled Liesel's mouth getting those damn rubber bands on- stretching her lips every which way while using pliers that just couldn't seem to get a hold of those tiny bands. I made a mental note to never, EVER let them schedule us with this woman again. The fat tears reappeared and I realized I, too, was stiffening, even as I used honeyed tones to soothe my girl. Finally, it was done.

Liesel jumped into my lap and that invisible connection abruptly switched from an artery to a vein. She curled up into a ball and just sobbed into my shoulder. Just past the blonde hair I was stroking, I saw the plastic pillow where her head had laid for the last 40 minutes, and it was covered in big, wet dots where her tears had fallen. Suddenly I wanted to sob too; in a very real way I felt her pain. My heart absolutely broke as my 9 year old cried in my arms. When we left, the assistant dryly mentioned the next appointment would be only 15 minutes, and again I wanted to stab her in the thigh with one of the dental instruments sitting on that little tray.

I told the receptionist to never schedule us with that assistant again. I took Liesel to Wendy's for her frosty and stopped by the house for some Tylenol before taking her back to school. By the time she headed off to class, she was perfectly fine but I was still indignant, heart-broken, and plain exhausted. That feeling stayed with me all day.

This connection I feel not just with Liesel, but with all my daughters, isn't always so negative. I've felt it when they work hard and succeed at something or when they face a fear and triumph. I feel their excitement on Christmas morning and their happiness on Fridays when we have pizza and family movie night. It's not a bad thing to have really. It's just that in this moment, the reality of this connection really hit home, and I simply couldn't deny it's existence.

In Luke 2:19 it reads, But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. A bit later in Luke 2:51 when they found Christ as a child in the temple astonishing the people with his understanding and answers it says, ...but his mother kept all these saying in her heart. It wasn't until today that I realize Luke was writing about that invisible connection. He was describing a mother heart. Now I get it!