I've been pondering my writing assignment for days. What does make me a mother? And how can I express that in my first grade writing style? "Me have baby. It cute. Me tired! Love being mommy!"
When I read these posts I almost broke my neck nodding in agreement. As much as I would like to think my experience is a special one, there are mothers all over the world loving their kids as much as I love mine. And some of them are much better writers than me, so stop by their blogs too!
Last year I was 8 weeks pregnant on Mother's day. I already considered myself a mom. I wanted the card and the present and the day focused on me. Me, me, me! My husband disagreed and proclaimed it didn't count yet. (In fact, he made the mistake of doing so out loud while he was getting his hair cut and my faithful hairdresser smacked him upside the head.)
I felt then like being a mother started the second I started putting my unborn child first, not the day I gave birth. The second I saw the double lines on the pregnancy test and swore off all alcohol and anything else that might be damaging to this being living inside me. Though I considered myself a mother from day one, I really had no idea what it was to be a mommy.
At the pediatrician's office a few months ago the nurse asked about "my daughter" and I didn't realize she was talking to me. I can comprehend that Marielle lives in my house, and that I care for her, but somehow I don't quite yet feel like a MOTHER to a DAUGHTER. It seems like a title I should have to earn over years and years of work, not one that is just given to me after a day in a hospital bed. Or three days as the case may be.
Since giving birth five months ago I have often thought that no one can comprehend what it means to be a mother until they are one. Sorry, not even fathers, though I'm sure you have your own special feelings, blah blah blah. You can discuss it in June on your blogs. Now stop whining. I have a new appreciation for my own mother that my brothers will never have. And boy did I have no idea what I was getting into.
The first emotion I experience every day is joy. For half an hour I can tune out the thoughts of the work ahead of me that day. The first half hour of our day is the best. I pull her into my bed to feed her, then she giggles and babbles and gives me a reason to live. I no longer wake up dreading getting out of bed--though I am still not a morning person and I greatly appreciate that Marielle sleeps until 8 or 9!
I try to keep track of every little thing about her, an impossible task. I have a job. I procrastinate. There's always so much to do. She changes so quickly. I am surrounded by half finished scrapbooks. I owe a hundred people thank you notes. I haven't even finished my week by week pregnancy journal, which may be forever stuck at week 32. But I just don't want to lose anytime playing with her or staring at her while she sleeps or any of the other fun things that fill our days. (I hope you all will forgive me when you recieve your "thank you for the matching bib and onesie set" note in 18 years.)
I feel like she is stuck on fast forward and I already want to rewind and relive some of the many wonderful moments from the last 5 months. Surely it cannot get any better than this, so I assume that it will only get worse.
I am now responsible for another human being. My inner voice is always talking to me. "Don't screw her up! Set a good example! Go earn money!" I wonder how long until the first "I hate you!" What mistakes will I make? How long until the sight of me doesn't make her smile every time?
I cannot plan anything in my life without taking into account my daughter. Who will care of her while I am away? I have noticed that my husband will make commitments such as a band rehearsal without a second thought. I cannot get out of bed in the morning without considering who is watching Marielle, much less schedule work or play without arranging back up care.My husband is often happy to volunteer, we have an excellent nanny, and the inlaws live nearby. We are very lucky! But in the end it all comes down to me. I am the one that makes sure someone is keeping her safe. I am the Marielle project manager.
But really being a mommy is about love. I never knew I had so much love in me. I never knew I could feel so much for such a tiny little human being. I dream of her future and of course want the best for her, yet I know there is nothing she could do that would make me stop loving her. When I hear of parents who have lost a child, my heart breaks for them. I know if it happened to me I would go on living, but I have no idea how.
Now go read some other beautiful essays brought to you by Light Iris and coordinated by The Parent Bloggers Network. Right after you look at my awesome pictures.
When I read these posts I almost broke my neck nodding in agreement. As much as I would like to think my experience is a special one, there are mothers all over the world loving their kids as much as I love mine. And some of them are much better writers than me, so stop by their blogs too!
Last year I was 8 weeks pregnant on Mother's day. I already considered myself a mom. I wanted the card and the present and the day focused on me. Me, me, me! My husband disagreed and proclaimed it didn't count yet. (In fact, he made the mistake of doing so out loud while he was getting his hair cut and my faithful hairdresser smacked him upside the head.)
I felt then like being a mother started the second I started putting my unborn child first, not the day I gave birth. The second I saw the double lines on the pregnancy test and swore off all alcohol and anything else that might be damaging to this being living inside me. Though I considered myself a mother from day one, I really had no idea what it was to be a mommy.
At the pediatrician's office a few months ago the nurse asked about "my daughter" and I didn't realize she was talking to me. I can comprehend that Marielle lives in my house, and that I care for her, but somehow I don't quite yet feel like a MOTHER to a DAUGHTER. It seems like a title I should have to earn over years and years of work, not one that is just given to me after a day in a hospital bed. Or three days as the case may be.
Since giving birth five months ago I have often thought that no one can comprehend what it means to be a mother until they are one. Sorry, not even fathers, though I'm sure you have your own special feelings, blah blah blah. You can discuss it in June on your blogs. Now stop whining. I have a new appreciation for my own mother that my brothers will never have. And boy did I have no idea what I was getting into.
The first emotion I experience every day is joy. For half an hour I can tune out the thoughts of the work ahead of me that day. The first half hour of our day is the best. I pull her into my bed to feed her, then she giggles and babbles and gives me a reason to live. I no longer wake up dreading getting out of bed--though I am still not a morning person and I greatly appreciate that Marielle sleeps until 8 or 9!
I try to keep track of every little thing about her, an impossible task. I have a job. I procrastinate. There's always so much to do. She changes so quickly. I am surrounded by half finished scrapbooks. I owe a hundred people thank you notes. I haven't even finished my week by week pregnancy journal, which may be forever stuck at week 32. But I just don't want to lose anytime playing with her or staring at her while she sleeps or any of the other fun things that fill our days. (I hope you all will forgive me when you recieve your "thank you for the matching bib and onesie set" note in 18 years.)
I feel like she is stuck on fast forward and I already want to rewind and relive some of the many wonderful moments from the last 5 months. Surely it cannot get any better than this, so I assume that it will only get worse.
I am now responsible for another human being. My inner voice is always talking to me. "Don't screw her up! Set a good example! Go earn money!" I wonder how long until the first "I hate you!" What mistakes will I make? How long until the sight of me doesn't make her smile every time?
I cannot plan anything in my life without taking into account my daughter. Who will care of her while I am away? I have noticed that my husband will make commitments such as a band rehearsal without a second thought. I cannot get out of bed in the morning without considering who is watching Marielle, much less schedule work or play without arranging back up care.My husband is often happy to volunteer, we have an excellent nanny, and the inlaws live nearby. We are very lucky! But in the end it all comes down to me. I am the one that makes sure someone is keeping her safe. I am the Marielle project manager.
But really being a mommy is about love. I never knew I had so much love in me. I never knew I could feel so much for such a tiny little human being. I dream of her future and of course want the best for her, yet I know there is nothing she could do that would make me stop loving her. When I hear of parents who have lost a child, my heart breaks for them. I know if it happened to me I would go on living, but I have no idea how.
Now go read some other beautiful essays brought to you by Light Iris and coordinated by The Parent Bloggers Network. Right after you look at my awesome pictures.
There's nothing I love more than cuddling my baby.
Except maybe dressing her in funny outfits. 
A few years ago my friend gave me some hand me downs to take to the local family shelter. I really liked this one, so I kept it. I'm going to hell for sure.
It's good to start the brainwashing early.
Marielle should know that I love her as I went in public in a swimsuit 3 months postpartum.
Mommies teach their babies to enjoy life.
Even if it means staring at the dryer for an hour.
Mommies take time to dress their kids in cute outfits for the first day of school, even though they don't even have time to brush their own hair.
Mommies lobby politicians for their babies who are too young to speak up.
Happy Mothers Day
to all mommies!
7 comments:
As a fellow mother, but not yet a mommy, thank you for this post. I can't wait to post something similar next year. :-)
Not getting to all those thank-you notes ... being your baby's project manager ... making sure the baby looks cute before you're presentable yourself -- I can relate to it all! I love your photos, especially the one about enjoying life. Glad you liked my post.
this post was gay and boring.
let's hear some poop jokes.
(you don't have to post this one. i won't be offended.)
Welcome to the oldest and most special club in the universe! Ditto to all you wrote. Love you always... YOUR mom
Lovely. (*stubbing toe, bashfully admiring your post*).
I enjoyed reading your blog. I love the photo of your little one in her anti W shirt! You say brainwashing, I say educating! Tomato/tamahto. Keep up the good work.
~mini
It will come. The first time some kid talks to somebody else and says "Marielle's mom", it will hit you in the face.
It will also age you.
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