Queen of Rambles

Six months ago my life changed in a way that I never could have imagined.

Of course, the change was not entirely unexpected. I had 10 months to prepare myself for the arrival of creature that had taken up residence in my belly. Ten long months of worry and anxiety and maybe a tiny dash of hope.

Many women worry and plan and prepare for years before having their first child. They have something I lack–a maternal instinct. I never wanted children. I didn’t quite see the point. My mother or friends would ask when I was planning on having children and I’d stare at them blankly and ask why. Why would I want to give birth to an ungrateful child that will do nothing but cause me pain and heartache? Why would I want to sacrifice all my personal freedom for a person who might turn out to be a drug addict and thief? Why why why?

When I met Mike I told him immediately that I was not going to have children. He just smiled and nodded and said “ok.” He often does that with me.

After being together with Mike for awhile I entertained the possibility of children as a purely genetic experiment. What would our children look like? What would they act like? How would our genes combine? That didn’t seem to be a compelling enough reason to take the plunge and grow a new life form inside my already bloated stomach.

Then my sister had a baby.

Everything changed in the moment that I picked up her two week old son and held him tight against my chest. Suddenly all the pieces feel into place and I knew why people had children. Children are little lumps of raw love and potential. I knew I had to have one of my very own, though I worried that I wouldn’t love my own child as much as I loved my nephew. He was just so cute and perfect and beautiful. Could my child possibly top that?

After months of trying with a miscarriage and chemical pregnancy thrown in for fun and excitement, I found out I was pregnant and the pregnancy was “sticking.” I was elated and terrified. What would it be like to be a mother.

Six months ago I discovered what it was like to be a mother. I can’t believe I thought I could love my nephew more than my own child. I can’t imagine any mother loving her child more than I love Erik. I look at him and see perfection and possibilities and laughter and love. He is my flesh and he is my blood. He is my everything.

On the other hand, I look at other children and can’t imagine their mothers loving them any less than I love Erik. I know there are mothers out there who don’t love their children or aren’t capable of loving them in the way that they need to be loved, but I can’t imagine how they do it. How do they look into their children’s faces and not die a little at the thought of doing damage to a fragile soul? How can they not do their best for their child, if not for themselves?

It’s been six months since I became a mother and I can’t believe how every single month has been a transition. I brought home a little lump of screaming flesh. He didn’t even know he had hands! He was just a head poking out of a blanket.

Now I’ve got a rolly-polly-wants-to-crawl-covered-with-fruit-paper-eating-cord-chewing-trouble-making-monkey boy who loves his mama. If there was ever any doubt that evolution played a part in the creation of humans, Erik banishes that thought. He holds onto my clothing with his tight little monkey grip, determined to hang on even if I take flight and swing from the trees. He laughs and giggles when I blow raspberries on his belly. He reaches for me when I walk near him and cries for a moment or two when I set him down. If he’s fussy I just have to hold him tight and sing a silly song of farmers and dells and he’ll calm right down. He likes to snuggle deep into my arm pit and hide from the sun.

He’s the sweetest, brightest little boy I’ve ever seen (and I’m completely unbiased, of course).

I look at him and can’t imagine living my life without him. I had no idea joy could come in such a demanding, self-absorbed little package. I almost weep with the knowledge that he’s going to grow up and roll his eyes at me or tell his therapist that I’m the root of all his problems. I would die for him without hesitation and he doesn’t even know it. He won’t know it until he has his own child. I’ll get a good mother’s day present that year. I know my mom is going to get the best mother’s day present of her life this year. I finally understand how she must love me. I finally understand why she wanted me to have a child. I finally understand so much, yet I know so little.

All my life I’ve been searching for the one thing that would make me happy. I’ve finally found it. These six months have by far been the most challenging of my life. Being a mother is more than a full time job. It’s a lifestyle that you can’t escape. There is no respite. Despite the intensity of my new role, I’ve stopped anticipating the Next Big Thing and am thoroughly enjoying my life minute by minute (as long as it’s a minute with no screaming baby or poopy diaper).

Six months old and ready to play with the big kids on the slide.

Swinging is more MisterE’s style.

This entry was posted on Thursday, April 13th, 2006 at 7:45 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.