Note: Reflection by Liz Sorensen Wessel
To my first born son, Lee
I remember driving to work each day and carrying you within me and loving that you accompanied me wherever I went. Oh the anticipation and the joy. After you were born, I recall thinking that if anything ever happened to you I would not want to live. The happiness you gave your grandparents and when they came to the hospital they were so excited to meet you; their first grandchild. Your dad and Auntie were there to help bring you into this world. Natural child birth was a lot harder than I ever could have imagined… and how you cooed back at me when I told you sweet nothings. You had so much to say…and we had great conversations long before you could speak.
To my second born son, John
I remember how deeply spiritual the experience of birthing you was, for me. Your Dad and Auntie were there to cheer me (and you) on. The contractions were intense and I remember blurting out to the nurse who was helping me, “I love you.” That surprised me because in Lamaze classes they warned us that we might swear and say things we did not know we were capable of saying. My neighbor told me how thrilled your brother was as he exclaimed, “I am going to the hospital to see my baby brother.” That image is vividly imprinted in my heart. At age four, I recall wishing you could stay that age forever… oh how I cherished those fleeting days with you.
At times, Mother’s day has been a bit melancholy for me as I looked back on your growing up years. Sadness, about all the missed time with you boys because of working full time. I gave so much, too much, to my job. Long hours were always part of my nursing career. I did not understand the meaning of work life balance. I was fortunate that your dad worked out of our home and had flexible hours. Grandma came over in the afternoons to help you with homework and showered you both with attention and love. I admit I felt envious at times.
Perhaps, I can write about this now, for the first time, because I feel more at peace. Instead of guilt and regret, when I can reflect back now, there are so many good memories to mine. Birthday parties, the zoo, trips to New England to visit family so that you would get to know your grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Opening our home to all the neighbor kids, fun days at the park, rocking you to sleep, breast feeding; the one thing no one else could do for you, Sunday dinners at grandma and grandpas house, homemade horseradish grinds, and gardening, carving pumpkins, Christmas and the changing seasons. 
One thing that has never been lacking is my love for you two, however imperfectly lived or expressed, it remains a love that runs deep and true.
To all the mothers who have lived, loved and forgiven themselves and others within the mutuality of our human frailty; I wish you enough.
And may every good blessing be upon us all.
Liz Sorensen Wessel
Journal of Sacred Work 
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