At The Frogpond

My Journey to Motherhood
(August of 2010)

 

I have come a long way in the short 7 years I have spent as a parent.  The mother that I am today is nothing like the one that I started out as, and hopefully only a hint of the one I will be tomorrow.  I am learning that it is an ever-changing process, a journey of self-discovery and of giving up of one’s self.  It is the most unselfish profession and the most rewarding work imaginable. 

When I first gave birth in the unfamiliar hospital room, I didn’t know what I was getting into.  I still did not think of myself as a mother and I had no idea what to expect when the baby I was birthing was finally born.  I do remember feeling a little sad.  I had grown accustomed to a living creature inside of me.  It slept with me, ate with me, kept me up at nights and hiccuped frequently.  And now we were about to be separated.  Would I feel empty?  Would we ever be as close again? 

This sadness was coupled with anxiety.  I was an only child growing up and was not accustomed to children.  Would I know how to care for her properly?  Would my motherly instincts “kick-in?”  Being an only child I had a healthy dose of selfishness to my nature.  I worried that I would not give enough of myself to my soon-to-be born child and that this would have lasting detrimental effects.  

And then she was born:  a beautiful baby with the large brown eyes.  Fearfully I took her, uncertain of my own emotions.  She was mine, but she looked nothing like me.  I saw no resemblance in her features whatsoever.  Yet she was mine.  She had to be, she came from me.  Yet she was a stranger.

I remember my husband’s eyes, wild with excitement and fear.  His role was changing, his world was expanding.  “She’s looking at me!” His voice was touched with pure happiness as he first glimpsed his newborn daughter.  I knew that he was hooked.

Where was my reaction?  Why couldn’t I respond like that?  I was her mother!  I’m supposed to cry when she is born and look adoringly into her eyes.  Yet I could not feel anything but fatigue.   I remember silently praying that our visitors would leave so that I could steal a moment of rest. I had never felt more tired in all of my life.

Awkwardly I nursed her and held her for visitors to see.  I was fascinated by her little body, but too overwhelmed to process what I really thought.  A nurse came in and asked me if I needed more pain medication.  I wasn’t sure what to say, this was my first birthing experience.   Wasn’t I supposed to be in a lot of pain?  My tailbone had been bruised and I had needed an episiotomy as well.  I was told very little about these things in my birthing classes.  The birth had gone smoothly, but the recovery was much harder than I expected.

At last the visitors went home and the nurse offered to keep Kaira, my newly born daughter, in the nursery with her.  I was grateful for the offer as I was so exhausted that I didn’t trust myself to wake up if she needed me.  I remember immediately falling asleep, only to be awakened every couple of hours to be checked or to be given more medication, or to nurse, or to eat.  I felt like I hadn’t slept a wink and groggily went through my first day like this.

Soon enough it was time to be sent home.  My husband was excited about this.  I was terrified.  I could barely get out of bed, let alone take care of a newborn!  I let them wheel me to my car where I watched the nurse check Kaira’s car seat insertion.  All was well.  Except for me. 

In a dream, I watched the buildings go past as we made our way to our home.  I remember how small Kaira looked in her car seat as we set it upon our barren dining room table (it was so easy to keep clean and clear back then!).  Friends kept us company for the evening and for a couple of hours, I almost felt normal.  If I had been more experienced, I would have known that I should have gone to bed while Kaira was sleeping. 

The fun began around 2 am.  I remember Scott nudging me awake as I did not wake up on my own to her cries.  He had considerable difficulty waking me whenever she awoke to nurse, and I never felt more tired in my life.  Would I ever have energy again?  I know that much of the fatigue was due to my surgery.  I looked drained and pale much of the time.  But slowly, my strength returned.

My most difficult moment came when Scott left the house to go for a walk.  Some visitors came to the house with some dinner, and I was lying on a couch in the upstairs family room.  Slowly I got up to go down the stairs, and searing pain shot through me from my stitches.  I cried in pain and fell to the floor.  I was unable to get to the door.  Kaira had started crying and I could do nothing about it.  My neighbor kept knocking and could hear my cry. 

Slowly I inched down the stairs and made my way to the door.  My face covered in tears of panic and great humiliation, I opened the door.  The three friends that were gathered on the doorstep immediately came in and helped me to pick up the baby, and they stayed and comforted me until Scott could return.  That was the most helpless I had ever felt.

There were other trials to face being a new mother.  It seemed that everyone had an opinion of how I should care for my daughter except for me.   One would say that pacifiers were wonderful things and another would shake her head in disapproval.  Some felt that antibiotics should be administered with every cold, while others advised caution.  Some told me that I should just put cereal in her milk to help her sleep while others said absolutely no solids for 4 months.  And so on.  I began to dread new advice as it only made my head spin.

I really think I was just a late bloomer.  It took time and experience to sift through the mountains of information and advice I had received about parenting.  When my daughter easily gave up her beloved pacifier at the age of 2, I realized that it was not so evil if it helped her to sleep peacefully throughout the night.  And while I initially thought that I was happier to continue to work at my daytime job, my thinking began to change after the birth of my son.  It was even harder to go back to work the second time, and I found myself longing to be with them at the end of the day.  My heart was no longer in my work, it was home where they were.  This led to my ultimate life-changing experience: becoming a stay-at-home mom.

This took a great deal of faith for me to do.  I had a well paying job and our family had to take a significant income reduction.  Thankfully, my husband was supportive.  The Lord had been working in our lives to build up our faith, and I believe it was to make us ready for this change.  It wasn’t easy and we’ve had a difficult road financially at times, but our lives have been much richer for it.

Growing up, I never daydreamed or imagined that this would be my future.  I thought that a stay-at-home lifestyle would drive me crazy.   I wanted to have a career and go places with my life.  It’s funny how life can change your plans.  I soon realized that I not only wanted to stay home, but that I had little desire to stay in my career.  I just couldn’t imagine what could be more important than being at home with my children.   Soon I had a third child, then a fourth.  And now, I’m expecting my fifth.  I never dreamed that I would have more than a couple children, but with each new child, the Lord has shown me that he can provide for all of our needs.  Each child brings their own unique blessings to the family.  If we had stopped at number 3, we would have missed out on all that number 4 had to offer, which is a great deal of joy.  I am not afraid anymore.  In fact, just the opposite.  I feel that I am finally where I was meant to be all along.  And I couldn’t be happier about it.  It took me 7 years. 

I am writing this in the hopes of encouraging another young mother out there.   Wherever you may be or however you may be feeling, the Lord is there, waiting patiently to bring you into His arms.  His ways are gentle and good.  There is nothing to fear.