The Rocking Chair

Jordan McCollum at MamaBlogga is hosting a Group Writing Project themed "Dear Child(ren)." I thought that I would take this opportunity to write something to the girls that has been rattling around in my head.

Dear Children,

C, when you were "in my tummy" (some of your favorite stories start this way), Mommy and Daddy had no extra money. Seriously. we didn't. Mommy had just graduated from college and was finishing a research fellowship which paid a whopping $12/hour. If you factor in my commute from Lincoln to Omaha, you will realize the paycheck wasn't much. Daddy was getting ready for his last year of dental school. That paid $0/hour, thank you very much. For one brief summer I was the breadwinner.

We used to window shop at all the baby stores. We realized that you weren't really going to care if your crib cost $500. Nor would you be able to tell if the side of your stroller said Peg Perego or Graco. Somehow, though, when you are expecting your first child, you can get caught up in everything you "need."

Daddy lamented when I wanted to put a border in your room. I just wanted something that said "A baby lives here." It cost $48 and was a big stretch on our budget. The other thing I really wanted was a rocking chair. How could I be a mommy and not have a rocking chair? So we went shopping. There were some wonderful chairs. They swiveled and reclined. They had matching ottomans. They came in a bevy of colors. But. But we couldn't afford them. Daddy knew that I was really disappointed. And he hates it when I am disappointed.

We were in an antique store one day - Little Golden Books were a big part of both our childhoods' and we were collecting the stories we had had as children for you and your future sibling(s) - when Daddy saw a rocking chair. It didn't swivel or recline. It didn't have an ottoman. It was solid wood. But. But it was $30. And it rocked. It wasn't particularly comfortable or beautiful, but Daddy liked it. He bought it and put it in the back of the truck. He took it to Grandpa Toney's house and carefully took it apart, cleaning it and sanding any rough edges. Then he put it back together, making sure that each piece fit snugly and none of the slats were loose. After that it made its way into the nursery/guest room of our apartment. Waiting for you and I to begin our rocking relationship.

I have to admit that it wasn't that comfortable. I looked and looked for a pad for the bottom that didn't look like a florist threw up on it. No luck. But we rocked. We rocked you to sleep, we rocked you when you were sick and sometimes I rocked you just when I needed to snuggle you. I knew just how to sit so that we rocked silently or how to make that chair squeak just enough to lull you to sleep. I knew which positions to avoid; the ones that made you remember why it was a $30 chair.

Gilly Bean, by the time you were born I could have bought any chair that I wanted. Daddy had been "gainfully employed" for 2 years and our budget had a bit more stretch to it. I looked at all those glider rockers lined up in the furniture store with their fancy ottomans and turned away.

Daddy hadn't lovingly prepared those chairs for me. I hadn't rocked your big sister in them. I knew I could spend $400 and still be disappointed with my meaningless chair.

And so our rocking chair is still with us. It has moved from our little apartment in Lincoln, NE to our first home in Rochester, MN. It lives in-transit now in a rental house in Madison, WI. (So do you!)

And so, dear children, maybe I'll never own a fancy rocking chair. Maybe I'll rock your children in this old, squeaky $30 chair. I wish I knew its story before it came into our home. I like to think that it has rocked many babies before you. I know that it holds a special place in my heart.

Please remember that it isn't so much about what you've paid for something as much as it is about the love that goes into it.

Love,
Mommy