You make me happy when skies are grey
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.
She wasn't planned. We already had three sons within three years (Braxton, born in 1990; Blaize, born in 1992; and Brody, born in 1993) and had decided to 'wait a little bit' to decide whether or not we wanted to try to have any more children.
God had other ideas.
September 1, 1995, Bentley Lynne joined our family and made us Stewart: Party of 6.
Most people assume we kept having children because we were trying to get at least 'one' of each sex.
Not true.
The fact that we had three boys made the assumption even greater as nearly everyone would ask us if we would 'keep trying' in order to have a little girl.
Beni will joke that we, or I, 'didn't want her' because I often tell people that I always assumed I would be a mom to only boys. I loved raising our sons and I felt comfortable doing it. Our boys were so close in age that they did everything together and raising them was so natural that I really could not imagine how a girl would fit into the picture of us.
Of course, I knew there was a 50/50 chance I'd had a daughter, eventually. Still, I never expected having one. Because, you know, I was only supposed to have boys!
Or, so I thought.
When we went for the sonogram and they were able to tell us the sex of our fourth child, Ed and I decided to go ahead and find out.
Hearing it was a girl was such a surreal experience for me and I can remember it quite vividly to this very day.
I felt shaken and uneasy.
I remember feeling suddenly inadequate because I would be giving birth to a child I had no idea how to raise.
You are my sunshine.
There's this thing about parenthood. All your insecurities and all your doubts seem to fade away once you look at your child for the first time. The reality hits that they will depend on you to be there for them, to take care of them, to protect them, and to love them. You have to get yourself together quickly and accept the challenge.
Somehow. You do it.
I've heard people say being a parent is natural.
I agree.
Your relationship with your child happens. And it happens, organically.
There's no instruction manual for parents. How reassuring it would be to have a 'boy' manual and a 'girl' manual at our disposal. Imagine if the hospital sent you home with both your baby and a users-guide!
You are my sunshine.
We brought Bentley home to our house in Murrayville. Her brothers all shared one room (with bunk beds for Braxton and Blaize along with a crib for Brody) and their playroom was the second bedroom of our three bedroom house. So, without a true room of her own, Beni spent her first months in a bassinet being wheeled from room to room at night. Braxton and Blaize liked to help push her around.
My fondest memory of that Murrayville home, besides being the first one we ever owned, was the picture I see in my mind of all three of her brothers surrounding Bentley as she lay on a blanket on the family room floor.
She was tiny. She was perfect and pink. She looked like a doll.
Her brothers would take turns covering her up with her blanket and they would sing to her.
You are my sunshine.
Over and over.
You are my sunshine.
This little person had made our family complete and she'd given us more than any of us had ever expected.
Thinking back to that day we had the sonogram, as we walked into the hall to wait to see the doctor, Ed said he thought we were having a girl because my Grandma Belobrajdic had sent her to me. He knew how much I loved my grandma. She had died about 8 months after Braxton, our first child, had been born. I hated that she didn't see our two other sons but when Ed told me he thought she sent our daughter to me, I felt a peace come over my whole body. I knew, in that moment, that this little girl I was carrying would be a gift.
What I didn't know at the time--there's no possible way I could have--was that my mom (whose first name was given to Bentley as her middle name) would be diagnosed with terminal cancer and pass away when Bentley Lynne was only 6 years old.
Had my grandma known this, too? That I would be losing the other important female in my life? That both of my female role models and family matriarchs would soon be gone?
Recalling Ed's words, again, I was more convinced than ever that my grandma made sure our last child would be the girl I would so desperately need in the years ahead.
You are my sunshine.
She sent me Bentley.
Our boys like to tease her that she's always been spoiled. Moving from Murrayville into what would be our second family home on South Main in South Jacksonville, Beni finally had a room little girls would dream of. Even though the boys exaggerate, she did had a great room complete with real picket fence attached to the walls and a wall/ceiling mural hand-painted by our friend, Joyce Nelson.
She probably has been spoiled. I can't deny it.
She's turning 24 today and instead of that tiny doll-baby surrounded by her brothers, I see the most beautiful woman.
She's breathtakingly beautiful. I'm not only writing of her physical beauty but also the pureness of her heart and the true kindness of her soul.
She's the very best parts of both my Grandma Belobrajdic and my mom.
She gives me that female link which is so important. She's my best friend.
Happy Birthday, Beni Lynne. I love you more than you'll ever know!
My one and only little girl.
Oh. I don't think I mentioned how the boys changed a couple words of the song they sang to their sister:
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don't take our Bentley away.
It is what it is.
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| Our daughter, Bentley Lynne, turns 24 today. |
