Motherhood
This post comes weeks after Mothers Day, not that it would have mattered as my Mothers Day was a little less than stellar. The gift my husband gave me came earlier in the week. A beautiful portrait done of our son, of my favorite photo I took shortly after we brought him home. Little did I know how much that little boy was going to change our lives, and change me.
It all starts out so innocently. They are these small little bundles, so fragile and you're absolutely petrified of every little thing that could possibly happen to them. Nightmare scenarios carom through your head like speeding cars, one after the other. It makes you cling tighter to their little bodies, and pray with everything in your soul that nothing bad ever happens to them, that you will be there no matter what to protect and love them forever. Then comes five months, six months, suddenly they are crawling, pulling themselves up on everything they can reach. Then they're walking, running, tripping, falling, climbing on everything and getting in to everything. Their curiosity is endless.
Then there's the teething, nights of endless whimpers and cries, hot little bodies clinging to you like a spider monkey. Despite a quick shower while your child screams at you from the the other side of the glass door, you still wind up covered in snot, the endless stream of drool that never stops while they are teething and whatever else collects on the hands of toddlers. And not more than 2 hours after that rushed shower.
Some days are harder than others, some, you cry right along with them. Remembering the days you got to sleep in past 7:30am, the nights when you had that extra glass of wine and didn't hate yourself for it, when you had time for frivolous things, when you could actually keep things like books and vases full of flowers on your coffee table, when a random daycare closure didn't throw your whole day out of whack, where your schedule wasn't dictated by this little mass of person, who with each day becomes 'more'. You cry for the person you used to be, and that the only person you are known as now is "mom", for as much as you cry for the sake of it, for the lack of sleep and frustration of not being able to sleep alone with your husband most nights. You find you have trouble sleeping through the night, even when they do, for fear that they'll stop breathing. You sneak into their room, as quietly as possible so as not to wake them. You place your hand feather light upon their back and listen intently for the sound of their breathe.
It's a shock, to those who had no comprehension of what it is for someone so small and vulnerable to be so entirely reliant upon you. Someone so small yet they take over your entire world. You, who, some days, don't feel even remotely put together. And yet, despite all of the screaming, the unpleasantness, the loss of privacy and in some cases romance in those early months...years. You crave the smell, the softness of their curls between your fingers, those little arms holding tight around your neck, the heavy weight of them in your arms, asleep on your shoulder.
We've been learning, slowly and with great falls and successes. Yet, despite all of the tears, the frustrations and lack of alone time, we still are looking forward to the next one, and the one after that. Looking forward to more laughter, more love, more of it all. We know what we need now, what we need to make things work between us, to balance our little family and love every minute of it.
It's a journey, it's trying and it is life. You have to fully embrace it to truly enjoy it. We are working hard to do just that.
It all starts out so innocently. They are these small little bundles, so fragile and you're absolutely petrified of every little thing that could possibly happen to them. Nightmare scenarios carom through your head like speeding cars, one after the other. It makes you cling tighter to their little bodies, and pray with everything in your soul that nothing bad ever happens to them, that you will be there no matter what to protect and love them forever. Then comes five months, six months, suddenly they are crawling, pulling themselves up on everything they can reach. Then they're walking, running, tripping, falling, climbing on everything and getting in to everything. Their curiosity is endless.
Then there's the teething, nights of endless whimpers and cries, hot little bodies clinging to you like a spider monkey. Despite a quick shower while your child screams at you from the the other side of the glass door, you still wind up covered in snot, the endless stream of drool that never stops while they are teething and whatever else collects on the hands of toddlers. And not more than 2 hours after that rushed shower.
Some days are harder than others, some, you cry right along with them. Remembering the days you got to sleep in past 7:30am, the nights when you had that extra glass of wine and didn't hate yourself for it, when you had time for frivolous things, when you could actually keep things like books and vases full of flowers on your coffee table, when a random daycare closure didn't throw your whole day out of whack, where your schedule wasn't dictated by this little mass of person, who with each day becomes 'more'. You cry for the person you used to be, and that the only person you are known as now is "mom", for as much as you cry for the sake of it, for the lack of sleep and frustration of not being able to sleep alone with your husband most nights. You find you have trouble sleeping through the night, even when they do, for fear that they'll stop breathing. You sneak into their room, as quietly as possible so as not to wake them. You place your hand feather light upon their back and listen intently for the sound of their breathe.
It's a shock, to those who had no comprehension of what it is for someone so small and vulnerable to be so entirely reliant upon you. Someone so small yet they take over your entire world. You, who, some days, don't feel even remotely put together. And yet, despite all of the screaming, the unpleasantness, the loss of privacy and in some cases romance in those early months...years. You crave the smell, the softness of their curls between your fingers, those little arms holding tight around your neck, the heavy weight of them in your arms, asleep on your shoulder.
We've been learning, slowly and with great falls and successes. Yet, despite all of the tears, the frustrations and lack of alone time, we still are looking forward to the next one, and the one after that. Looking forward to more laughter, more love, more of it all. We know what we need now, what we need to make things work between us, to balance our little family and love every minute of it.
It's a journey, it's trying and it is life. You have to fully embrace it to truly enjoy it. We are working hard to do just that.
Comments
Post a Comment