I am thankful that God sent Lyndsay into my life to fill a void that I didn’t even realize I had.
Courtesy of Sarah Shrader
When I gave birth to my first daughter, I remember telling my sister that it was so cool – that was the word I used, “cool.” It was a love that I couldn’t explain – a piece of me outside of my body. I felt the same love when I gave birth to my second daughter. An attachment beyond compare that could only be felt from carrying a baby. Or so I thought.
And then, Lyndsay came along. I never carried Lyndsay in my womb – in fact, I never carried her as a baby at all. I didn’t watch her first steps or hear her first words. At the time she started school, I didn’t even know her. First lost tooth, I wasn’t there. First Christmas — and second and third and so on — I didn’t even know she was experiencing it.
At 10 years old, this little girl walked into my life – full of experiences that I wasn’t a part of. And I had two little girls – and experiences with them – that I will never get to share with Lyndsay. And yet, it’s like this sweet child just crawled up inside my heart and became mine.
Don’t get me wrong, we talk about and celebrate her mother who would, no doubt, still be a part of her life if she had not lost her battle to cancer. Forever, she will have a piece of her mom with her and while I will not ever fill that void, I am thankful that God sent Lyndsay into my life to fill a void that I didn’t even realize I had.
She doesn’t call me mom. I have never asked her to. I have never said she couldn’t — but at 10 years old, it is hard to just start calling someone mom. She doesn’t need to call me mom – we just know we have each other. The bond is there – it’s unspoken and solid. Its unconditional and forever. It may be different, but it is substantial.
Together, we have learned to trust someone who showed up out of the blue. We have counted on each other – an ear to listen when someone is being mean or an eye to see when we are not sure what to wear.
We are real with each other – whole truths and no hiding. One big difference I have with her is that she already knew all the little white lies of childhood – there already wasn’t a Santa when she came around. In her short little lifetime, she had knowledge and insight to more than any child I had met before. She wasn’t sheltered so our talks have always been raw and honest.
While that isn’t always pretty, it has allowed us to open up in ways that I had never done before with a child. But it has taught us that there’s nothing we can’t discuss – bring it all here and we will figure it out – together.
That’s not always easy. Sometimes it looks like me pushing her outside of her limits which, as you can imagine, she isn’t always a fan of. And as a bonus mama, that is hard. Watching defeat come across her face, or seeing her upset at a request, it hurts my heart.
But she has proven over and over again that she is an overcomer. And seeing her eyes light up with a glimmer of belief in herself, watching her take on a situation with fear and come out confident, that’s a feeling I cannot describe – one that makes me beyond proud of this once super shy little girl opening up her wings and flying.
She has carried me through the start of having a teenage daughter – and well, as you can imagine – there have been all kinds of emotions with that. But she taught me that, even as a teenager, sometimes everyone needs a hug, a lap to sit on, an ear to listen to all the drama and someone to wipe their tears.
Sometimes, she grabs my hand and holds it out of nowhere. And sometimes, I grab hers and she pulls away. Some mornings I come up from behind her, put my arms around her and make her let me hug her – and some mornings she turns face to face with me and hugs me back. Regardless of if she wants it or not, every morning, I squeeze her and remind her she is loved.
Because she is so very loved. No, I didn’t carry this child – she didn’t come from my genes or my blood – and I didn’t birth her one day and tell someone how cool it was that she was mine.
But, that is actually the coolest part of it all – it’s not because of all those things but, instead, despite missing out on all those things – that makes the love that I feel for this child immeasurable and utterly genuine. It’s a sincere attachment that she taught me doesn’t only come from carrying a child into this world, but instead walking, learning and loving her all throughout.
Happy birthday, Lyndsay. I love you so much!
Sarah (Pitson) Shrader was born and raised in Lima. She is a Lima Central Catholic and Tiffin University graduate. Sarah is a full-time working mama who enjoys writing about her somewhat crazy, always adventurous life as a mom and bonus mom. She lives in Bath Township with her husband, Lee Parsons, and their seven kids.
