The day I became a new Mom was full of surprises! Surprises like, how difficult this experience would be. Back in the early 80’s they told us it was not actual pain, just discomfort. Really? I was also surprised at the genuine love I had for this perfect little tiny girl, with the “bow lips” Her lips seemed to be the perfect pink and formed a sweet bow. I could not stop staring at her perfect face. Life in the hospital was smooth until the thought hit me “I have to take little sweet miss perfect home”. Terror filled my heart the night before “release day”. I honestly could not fall asleep, from worry. I asked the nurses for a sleeping pill, which I later realized they gave me a stool softener. But, I still finally fell asleep.
My terror came from the thought that I have no idea what I was doing. The truth is many many women have had babies and I actually knew some of them. My Mother for example had taken five babies home from the hospital. Her Mother had brought home three babies. Her Mother had brought home five babies. I had a heritage to draw from. Thankfully, my heritage was one of nurture, a gift with infants. As I walked thru the first six fresh weeks of my first born’s life, my mother taught me nurture. I trust that her mother had taught her, and her mother had taught her. I was hungry to learn the ways of calming a newborn, reading the signals and enjoying the warm sweet moments of rocking a sleeping baby in my arms. She was mine, I was hers. Just as I had been my Mothers and she had been hers.
I am thankful for the heritage given to me through my generations of Mothers. I knew my Great Grandmother and was able to sit in her home and visit with her. My children have also been able to know my Grandmother. It is a gift for children to see us interact with older generations. Our family tends to live to a ripe old age. My Grandmother was 96 this summer. My sweet daughter and her children made time to visit while in the area. 
My dear Grandmother died recently. I lost my greatest cheerleader. She quietly loved me. Not a loud kind of love. The kind that really needs no words. Just the look or the smile shared between the two of us. My heart is that I too have nurtured my children and they will know my love for them is a quiet strong kind of love that comes from the generations before, flowing into them.
Sending Arrows 