On: Motherhood

Two-years-ago, I willingly signed up for this ‘demanding’ training course; one of those … learn-as-much-information-as-humanly-possible situations. This condensed exposure assignment was publicly known as “motherhood,” and as of 2017, I left my enjoyable, selfish comfort bubble and became a card-carrying-trainee – FOR LIFE.

Advertising said there was the equivalent of a second birthday, a whole holiday dedicated to these women where they were showered with gifts and could relax and revel in their parenting accomplishments and hard work; so much love – they said – one might explode.

 

They didn’t say there would be 1000 extra loads of laundry or diapers so offensive there might be tears, they didn’t mention any one of a million moments that would bring you to your knees looking frantically for a white flag to wave or some a manual to consult. Nonetheless, my whole being is invested forever. I am a lifetime card-carrying member of the mom club. I’m proud. It is a privilege to raise a person; it is important work and a sacrifice which has few equals.

Delivery day: I’m on a rolling gurney, they’re pulling bobby pins from my crown braid – nothing metal in the ER!! I’m getting the short version of surgery, my husband has been whisked off to sign some forms and put on scrubs, I can’t feel my legs, I didn’t do any research this spinal tap … gap in memory.

After 30-hours of labor (labour) some pretty aggressive threats to both, a student nurse and my husband, one attempted escape, some forceps, and an unexpected spinal tap later, I had a baby girl in my arms.

I couldn’t understand the intensity of emotions swirling around my exhausted, inexperienced head.  In that moment, I clung first to disbelief until awe set in. Most of my first 24 hours with her, I can’t remember. But soon I began collecting every incredible and consuming feeling and I tucked them all away into a lock box in my heart. I am forever bound to you from 6lbs 13oz to whatever did and does happen forever – even that 1 pound of weight loss you tortured me with just one week after you were born. 

Y O U are so beautiful, sometimes I think I’ll never see anything more perfect from here on out, and then one of those days hits me smack between my eyes. I fall off my crying-over-your-beauty-rainbow and hit the ground. THUMP … Yes, because things get difficult, and draining and oh so weepy … sometimes we both cry. But mainly it’s you; sometimes you scream and moan … and how did you get poop on my arm?!? Then you take a fist full of my hair and yell some more. You are so dramatic. 

But you are so gorgeous, my daughter. You are remarkable and exquisite and unique. Know this: I will make mistakes and I will miss the mark, I will yell and we won’t always agree, but I will never take you for granted.

I understand, you are learning and absorbing at a rate no formed adult can comprehend/remember. You crave stimulation like lungs do air; I do my best little muffin. But just when I feel proud of our harmony, you decide to shake things up. It is precisely during those moments of clarity and harmony that you regurgitate your entire meal onto my fresh, clean shirt in 20 minute intervals (and I wore pyjamas for 2-months, so putting on a shirt was a big step for me.)

You are the neediest best friend I've ever had, but thanks for testing my patience; I've always needed to work on that. Thanks for teaching me how to eat dinner in 14 seconds with my non-dominate hand. Thank you for making me feel funny and for being amused when I do basic and mundane things or say anything in a voice just one octave higher than normal . Your gummy smile shatters my happiness meter. I love you.

You are incredible to me and always will be; it’s unimaginably painfully, gorgeous;  it’s heart-stopping;  your beauty is recognisably already worth all the hard work and bad days scattered in front of me for the next 40-years or however many I have left as your mom. Your beauty is even worth the first time you tell me you hate me, and you will (sad face) because hormones are Horrible with a capital H.

   

I look at you and I see these perfect, tiny, little body parts and facial features that I assembled with my own body. God knows how it all works, but it is truly amazing. This love that I get to feel is because I made a life. For 9-months, I gave up coffee and alcohol and certain food; I anxiously calculated every choice in relation to growing you. I borrowed a very important cell from your dad and gave up my body to give you a safe home, a place for you to grow and form. I also gave up what my body was, and maybe I gave up the best it would ever look in a bikini – fair trade. WORTH IT! Plus I can add, “can grow skeleton” to the skills section of my resume.

To my budding, little person, to my exquisite girl, if I could record everything you do -- I would.  You won’t remember what we’ve been through or even understand our connection, the best chance you’ll likely have at even appreciating that is if you are lucky enough to have your own children. You will have babies one day, but maybe you won’t because sometimes it just not possible. If you want to but can’t, I’ll sit with you and your unimaginable hurt, I’ll urge you to live on to find your unique purpose.  I’ll hold your sweet head in my hands until you cry the last tear you need to cry in order to move on. I would give up my own life if you wanted something you couldn’t have -- if it were only that easy. 

And there’s more—LIFE isn’t easy…

                 ... it’s gritty and sometimes it feels like you’re chewing on beach sand just to get through the days and challenges that will find you. Be brave and kind and trust that whatever hurts will fade .. a bit …or a lot …. or totally – with time. Give it time, my love.

You will call me a thousand times and ask how to make my deviled eggs, even though it’s only mustard and mayo, I will tell you patiently and happily because I love it when you call me.

When you are 18 you’ll want a tattoo of a quote or some animal that you think is really cute. To your 18-year-old mind, this seems justifiable – Please DON’T do it, choosing something permanent with a mind that's still evolving might haunt you well into your 80s. You might like it in the end, but it's more likely that when you’re 29 you will wish you could go back in time and tell your 18-year-old self to sleep on it – for a decade.

Hopefully the future you will always be a better version of “the you” that you are along the way. I will raise you to strive for self-improvement as you go along in life. I will teach you to own everything that happens to you ... even your mistakes.

"if you want people to speak affectionately of you, you should have behaved better."

Munchkin, you will get gum stuck in your hair, don’t cut it out yourself, yes, you guessed it, I WILL be mad, but even more mad if you hide it from me. And speaking of gum in your hair, it’s a metaphor for living your life and accepting the good with the bad; the intricacies of perspective and the narratives of difficult situations can be complicated despite the best intentions … Sweet, chewy gum is far less appealing in your hair than your mouth. But stay calm, find a solution and in the end, it will be OK.

And a few more lessons – there so many, I hope I do them justice and help you blossom, I hope you’re graceful girl- a kind one. I will teach you to let your life breathe — tell your story; be authentic, rise from loss and pain and setback. Perfection is an idea not a reality. I will teach you to acknowledge your urges and that your primary relationship should always be with yourself. A long time ago, I read somewhere that if you love yourself, you will attract the same love, compassion and loyalty in other people, I never stopped believing that and I hope I can teach you to believe it too.  I will teach you to be intimate with your feelings – feelings are so difficult but this ebb and flow is what actually makes life so good. Joy sometimes hurts, not only because of the hardships to get there but because sometimes it’s fleeting.  Listen, I know it sounds loony. You will cry, and lose people and know heart break (pause for my own sobs) and there will be thousands of days when you will want to throw in the towel and give up. DON’T give up! It all makes sense with time. 

I could write 50 more pages but there’s just two more things: ONE, in relationships demand respect, don’t let anyone take advantage of any good you have offer – good in a relationship should be a mirror; TWO, your father is a shining example of a good man, recognise that before you begin dating. And the last thing I will say (for now…) no one will ever love you as much as I do. I made you and that is just the way it goes kiddo.

Be good. Be kind.

Forever yours,

Mom

 <3 <3  Lovingly dedicated to my MOM <3 <3