I'm trying to figure out how I feel now that I'm somebody's mother (even after 4 months, it feels strange even writing that). Sometimes, I am utterly, totally transformed - the first time I held her, I literally could not see anything else, and I would lose hours(!) just watching her sleep when she was a newborn. When, 3 days after she was born, we had to take her back to the hospital (preemie with jaundice), I cried - just wept, all day long - while her tiny body was separated from me in her little isolette. No amount of rational thought could penetrate the fog of the hormones that were screaming at me for letting my baby be anywhere but on me.
But sometimes, and more when I've slept for a blissful 6 or 7 hours in a row, I just feel...like myself. Sometimes, I'm a little sad that I'm not fundamentally different - it's more that I've just been extended slightly; I'm in a new relationship, I've added a second love to my life. But in the same way marriage didn't make me into a new person, neither has motherhood. I'm pretty sure time will take care of that on its own.
Of course, just bein real here: That same kid and her two-year-old brother spent the entirety of yesterday acting like a couple of total fucking assholes and I went for the Stoli the second they were down for the night, so it ain't all stars. Heh.
Loved this -- thanks for sharing it!
I don't know what my becoming a mom did to my friends -- we were largely in the same boat, because most of them started having babies around the same time -- and it's fair what some commenters have said about this amount of mental aggro about parenthood being a rarefied/privileged thing (I was almost 34, and although I came from no-money small-town Texas, by the time I had a kid I was in the UMC/college-degreed subset of people for whom this luxury is available/expected). But to me, it WAS transformative -- like Courtney, this was my experience, so it's all I can truthfully tell:
Six years and fourteen days ago, I was in the hospital, three days out from my last shower, tireder than I’d ever been, and feeling like I’d run an ultramarathon, then been totally dismantled and put back together wrong -- and I didn’t care about any of that at all, cause Kid Gleemonex was finally here and this duo had become a POWER TRIO.
And as scared as I was up to then about how she’d change our lives, and change me, and generally throw a wrench into everything – none of that shit mattered anymore either. She did change everything; in fact, the shift into our new lives was instantaneous, completely radical and absolutely shocking in its totality. Entire rooms opened up that we didn’t even know were there. Galaxies. Entire galaxies, lit with billions of stars.
Chiming in as a childless person: All of this really really rang true to me. I'm generally in awe of how great my mom friends are but there's still always some change and distance. I'm struggling to explain it better than just pointing out paragraphs and nodding...
@Canard Sore boobs were my first pregnancy symptom. It had never been a PMS symptom until after my miscarriage last year, and it seems to be getting worse every month, and so every month I am hopeful that this is it... Bodies. Ug.
As a lady who wishes to be pregnant but consistently is not, I also spend a lot of time wondering WHY pregnancy and PMS symptoms are the same. Damn you breast tenderness and affinity for crackers!
AHP, until the fourth paragraph, I was convinced that we went to the same summer camp. You've pretty much described my Baptist camp to a T.
There was also the one year when I went to Music Camp week and we put on a musical called The Secret of My Success. (If you're wondering, the secret is that you're searching for God's kingdom and His righteousness.)
By area@twitter on Call the Dolphin
I assume the Nopetopus will be the midwife.
By TheLetterL on Call the Dolphin
@redheaded&crazy ....and then batting it through a hoop with their snout