Tears Of Joy Video - Baby and Children Stories

Motherhood is a wonderful experience, filled with joys and sorrows, frustrations and fulfillment. For many the desires for motherhood started from childhood with little girls playing with their dolls. Others have motherhood thrust on them, but after accepting it—find it was one of the best parts of their life. The bond for some mothers starts the moment they feel their baby move inside them, for others it may be the moment their baby is placed in their arms for the first time, and others it may take a while till the overwhelming feeling of this new responsibility passes and they start to build a relationship with this child who is totally reliant on them.

But motherhood is not just restricted to the mothers who give birth. The bond with an adopted child can be just as strong. A mother who adopts a child has usually been through many different means to try to have one the natural way. When that doesn’t succeed, her desire to share that love moves her to seek out a child she can bond with. Many adoptive mothers say that same bond comes the day that dream is realized and the baby is placed in their arms.

Then there are the stories—and with children they never stop. The changes they make, the cute things they do or say. The progress they make and the mannerisms that they take on, both bad and good—that are just like you. For a while the parents may look as the children as extension of themselves. But soon they realize they each child emerges with their own personality. Learning their personality and watching it develop is one of the joys of parenthood. Being a part of training and helping that child develop is the reward you are given as a parent. When the child is an adult, they may not be what you pictured, but in the end, the good you see in them is a reflection of you. Through those years you may have had to go through some heartache and gray hairs, but if it ends in a good person, many parents feel it was well worth it.

This section is all about the joys and experiences of parenthood. It is a place to share your stories as a parent. We also offer you different means to create your stories with your baby pictures and keep a recorded record of all those changes your child makes as they grow to adulthood.

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Kaden The Crocodile Hunter

We live in Alabama on the Alabama/Georgia line. We go by Georgia/EST time though. The kids got new alarm clocks for Christmas. My youngest son is 7 and has a time with hisalarm clock. My alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. right after I would hit snooze I would hear his clock go off and he lets it beeeeeep till it stops. He doesn't have to get up till 7a. I told him yesterday that he needed to fix his clock because it was going off way too early. He said well, I have it set to Alabama time. I said, we don't go by Alabama time. I let it go. Later I reminded him that he needed to fix the time on his clock so it would not be going off so early, again he tells me he has it set to Alabama time. This time I was like.clocks don't give you the option to set your clocks to Alabama time so I told him to bring me his clock. He had his clock set an hour ahead and his alarm an hour behind and the reason he thought it was Alabama time was because when you press the button to set the alarm, it has an AL at the bottom, lol.. He thought that meant Alabama time..tooo funny!!

I always used the blue toilet cleaners that turned the water blue.One day after going potty, he come running out of the bathroom shouting," Momma,yellow and blue make green!" He took me into the bathroom and showed me his new color. LOL Yes, son, yellow and blue make green. Good job!
Susan Chronister
Spring Valley, IL

Almost everyone can appreciate the beauty of a full moon. I live on the coast of Florida and one night when my sister was visiting with her family, we went out onto the deck to enjoy the ocean. The night sky was completely lit up by the full moon. I asked my 4 year old nephew what he saw. The pint-sized poet answered, "It looks like sparkling diamonds dancing happily on the water!" My sister and I just smiled at each other as she repeated, "Happily!"

Contribute your own songs.
Okay, if you play the video above, its not the greatest voice, its mine! But it does tell a story. It was a song my mom sang to me that we loved and I have passed it down to other children, and the parents say they never heard of it.

This got me to thinking about children's songs. What songs did you grow up with or do you sing to your own children or grandchildren?

This third pregnancy is different, problem free - finally, I'm to be a mother. But at 27 weeks, my child literally falls into the world without warning. His twin follows: mewing. They are perfect miniatures of their father, but so tiny. When a head rests on my fingertips, a foot only just tips my watchstrap.

I cradle my sons: one alive, one dead - one pink, one blue. The tune "Pink and blue will never ever do." hop-scotches, fogging my head. Is it possible that the sun still sets and the traffic still moves? Time marches, suspended in nothingness.

I stare at the hospital admission form. The red words 'spontaneous abortion' jump out, strangling me. Abortion? It sounds like I'm to blame. From afar I hear the admissions clerk: "Do you smoke?" "No." "Do you drink?" "Not for the past seven months" "Are you pregnant?" I bite my lip. Did I miss something? Am I going mad?

Mydoctorfills the room. I think his stubby fingers are more suited to motor mechanics than medicine. I tell him so. His mouth moves - words slice my brain: "incubator'.. "deformed" . "retarded". He cuts the umbilical cords and I hold my children as the youngest takes his last breath and joins his brother. Silence shrieks and, like mis-coloured chessmen removed from the board, my sons lie discarded in a kidney bowl.

I nightmare until the morning sun lumbers over the mountains, but still nothing seems real. "I want to see my babies," I tell a hurried uniform. Eventually another appears: "Your babies were burnt last night." "Burnt? Burnt?" The world is swathed in bandages of unreality. Those brutal words slam me. I wheel my drip down a never-ending passage to the maternity ward, my arms an ocean of emptiness. I have to hold a baby. I'm jolted by a newborn's cry. Are you nuts? Get a grip, Clare, you cannot ask some new mother you don't even know to hold her baby.

Days and weeks, friends and family all kaleidoscope into a blur. I look normal (or so I'm told). But my arms still ache to hold the babies they never will, my breasts leak and my dead children still phantom kick, inflaming false hope. Despair descends - I'll never be a mother.

On what was to be mydue dateI don't want to answer the telephone, I want to die, but: "Life goes on." A voice introduces herself as "Lindy. someone you haven't met." I don't know it, but an earth angel has arrived. "I've heard about your boys and I'm sorry. I had twin girls today and I'd like to share them with you." It didn't put her off that in my befuddled, furious-at-the-world-state, I could have been yelling-angry; I could have slammed the phone down. But her loving intentions pierced my pain-riddled pit.

She never minded my tears falling on their faces as I bathed 'our' babies, changed their nappies, smiled at their gurgles and kissed their tiny fingers and toes, remembering other hands and feet - lost. Sometimes, I just sat and filled my empty arms with their soft warmth. I become their heart mother. Unasked, Lindy's generosity of spirit meant she shared her most previous, her children, with me, a stranger.

But looking back now, it's as if she intuited something I didn't know - that her family needed me too. The day the twins turned five, fate corkscrewed everything - acar accidentupside-downed our worlds. Now, Lindy is an angel mother in heaven to 'our' boys and I, Clare. I'm an earth mother to 'our' girls.
Contributed by Cari Corbet-Owen
Copyright:
http://www.ditch-diets-live-light.com

Some things were just meant to be
Like love...mybaby and me
Rough roads to endure
Keep faith...I’ll be sure
All for mybaby and me

copyright 2008

Black with white or yellow or brown
do not fear who's eyes shall frown
for in our hearts we blind shall know
that Christian's blood will forever flow
to make more children of his kind
and make this world soon color blind.
So, kiss his precious little face
and bless his genes towards
the human race!

copyright 2008

Janet Pagano
Hopewell Junction, New York
Baby Bling and little things

I have a little girl named Emma Grace who just turned 5 years old. last summer when I was tucking her in, I asked her if she has anything special she'd like to pray about. She said " Dear Jesus, I pray that you keep the TV safe, and I pray for no commercials". I will NEVER forget her saying that. It was hysterical.
Angie Neal
Jax, FL

My Son Brian, who is now 35 was up in his room "cleaning." I had gone up to the room many times to see the progress of the clean-up-job. Each time I went to the room I would see that nothing had been done. This last time however I went to see that the door had been closed.

I thought he must have decided to take a nap for all of the "thinking" about cleaning he was doing. So I opened the door very slowly. Out of the corner I saw something go past my face. Then it registered that it was GI Joe holding onto something as he was sliding down the string across my vision. I believed that I must have released him from his station on the other side of the door where he was stationed to go for his ride. I followed the string to across the room and it looked like it was set to go through the this makeshift house. As I watched GI Joe hang-glide past my face through the door of the house and crash at the back of the house I now realized it was part of "the plan" and Lord knows how long this child was perched behind this door waiting for me to come and release GI Joe for his trip across the room. As I stood there trying to register what really happened, my eye's began to scan for the child that thought about all of this. Where was he?

He was on the floor looking into the house from a trap door on the side to see GI Joe do his crashing at the back of the house, of course. At this point we were now looking eye to eye. I wondered what he could say to my as to why he hadn't cleaned his room. But Brian said with the perkiest voice he could drum up... "Don't you know Mom, I'm an inventor!" As I nodded my head yes, saying nothing, I closed the door, went down stairs to his Step-Father and said three words. He's all yours!

Boy did one of my children have a story to tell. When my oldest was 4 yrs old. She came downstairs to tell a story. She is like me... A long story is very long, and a short story is too long.

She was telling her story and going in circles... She started to umm, and, umm. It was cute. She was trying to make it longer....

She spit it out alright. All you heard was pfft pfft thfft. She was trying to spit.
We still crack up to this day.

Harris is 5 years old and LOVES baseball. He had watched his older brother play for years and last year he was finally old enough to play t-ball. The Kansas winter was long and Harris could hardly wait for baseball season to roll around again. As Springtime came, Harris was counting down the days until he could play ball again. As his Dad drove him to the first practice, Harris said, "You know Dad- these are the good old days!"
Roxanne Pennington
Jupiter, FL

Tears of Joy Video and Photography