I remember that morning so clearly... so dreamily. If I were to paint a picture of it, the edges would be blurred, the lighting would be soft, the colors muted and quiet. The house was sleeping- but we were not.
It was early, early Sunday morning, over 24 hours after I brought my sweet baby girl home from the hospital. She was tiny and wriggly. He legs always bunched up like a frog. She wasn't eating well, was choking a lot, I didn't know why at the time. I was tired and clueless- oh so clueless.
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When I gave birth to Gemma, I was exhausted. Not, "hey, I just gave birth exhausted" but "I haven't slept in two days, just worked out hardcore for 11 hours, and why the heck did I let them give me a sleeping med" exhausted. I remember thinking as they put her on my chest that this was supposed to be some breathtaking supernatural moment. I remember feeling like something was wrong with me because this little wrinkly, screaming, smushed-nose, purple thing felt more like a stranger to me than the resident who helped deliver her.
I know I said all the right things, I even tried to muster a tear- I felt like I should- but none came. I know I kissed Abe; I know I said hello to Gemma and told her I was her mama; I know I thanked God. I know that I wanted to nurse her right away but I didn't- I held her right away but let them weigh her and clean her up pretty quickly. I always thought the earth would slow and it would be just me and her in this dreamy moment and I would fight anyone tooth and nail if they tried to take her from me. I kept waiting for that cosmic, earth shattering moment when you see that baby and know your heart will burst a million times over if it could. And, it didn't come. Sure, I thought she was precious and I knew on a logical level that I loved her but no supernatural moment.
We took her home and I sat in the backseat with her, because that's what moms do. Not because I couldn't leave her side but because I thought I wasn't supposed to. She was tiny and helpless and not eating well, crying a lot, not sleeping, and unhappy. I thought she was just fussy- that I was doing something wrong... that I'd feel that magic soon.
I left her the next morning to go to Target. My mom came over- she was Gemma's first babysitter. Abe and I went to Target, bought a video monitor and some more diapers and then came home. It wasn't hard for me to leave her. Is that horrifying? I don't mean to imply that I didn't love her but it wasn't that fierce mama bear love that I expected. I read that some moms don't bond with their baby right away. Was I one of those?
I took her home feeling completely responsible and utterly incapable.
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That Sunday morning, October 10th, 2010, I fell in love. I laid her down on the changing table for the first diaper change of the day and then it hit me. Like a cement wall, like a tidal wave, like a ton of bricks, like a semi-truck going a thousand miles an hour... like that cartoon anvil on my chest. It hit me.
Like a gentle warming in my soul, like an ache that was ecstasy and agony all in one, like a shattering and simultaneous rebuilding of my heart. That supernatural mama love hit me. I said out loud over my wriggly little newborn, "There it is."
That moment, I looked down into the face of my daughter and she broke my heart. I never thought I could love anyone or anything as much as I love her. At that moment, that cosmic, life altering, mind-bending, heart breaking, beautiful, reckless, relentlessly tender love of a mama for her baby, hit me. It was supernatural, cosmic and unexplainable. In all reality, I'd known her 3 days. If she were an adult, she'd still be at the acquaintance stage but no, not here.... on this changing table, on this day, she became my flesh. She became my soul. She became my song. She became mine. I had snuggled her and told her I loved her. I had held her and cuddled her but oh, as my tears fell over her little half-naked body, I pledged my love to her anew. I breathed over her, "Oh, I love you, sweet Gemma. Do you know how much I love you? Do you know?"
I felt like my heart had shattered into a trillion pieces and I felt like it had swollen with more love than I knew it could hold. I saw her fingertips in a new way- the tiny fingernails... I saw her little pouty mouth and felt her sweet breath on my forehead as I kissed her little chest. I wept over her, pledged my life and love to her, and tenderly changed her. Then, I cradled her tiny body in my arms a changed woman. She was weightier then... she had stolen my heart.
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If we are made in the image of God, if we are indeed His children, if He indeed feels this way about us (all of which I believe) what WONDROUS love is this!? What amazing, earth shattering love we are the recipients of. And, what a gift that He gives mamas a special taste of this supernatural, unbelievable, indescribable, heart breaking, life giving, perfectly possessive love for their children.
Before that morning, I was a mom... a mother. At that moment in the hazy morning light, surrounded by blurred and softened colors, in the eyes of my daughter, in the tiny grasp of her finger, in the innocent trust of her heart, I, Sarah, became a mama. And I haven't been the same since. She broke my heart, rebuilt it and now continues to shatter it with love on a daily basis.
So, when did you become a mama? Not, when did you give birth but when did you BECOME a mama? Were you one of those lucky ladies who was blown away the moment she met her baby? Were you a mama the moment you found out you were pregnant? The moment you found out you would not raise your child here on earth? Was it the moment your baby nursed for the first time, the moment you held his/her hand? Or were you like me, and it hit you later?
There's no wrong answer with this obviously, but I long to know your hearts. I really want to hear that special story- that moment that changed you forever; that moment a tiny little soul made you a mama.
Wow, what a beautiful post, Sarah! I remember feeling so strange right after little T was born...mostly because He screamed and I wasn't able to calm him. I remember panicking. :)
ReplyDeleteBut when the doctor said he had low blood sugar, something kicked inside me...this desire to protect this little guy with all of my being!
Happy birthday to your little girl! My little guy turns 1 on Friday!
Mel
p.s. those cupcakes look amazing...seriously! :)
Part of me feels like I became a Momma the day I went on bedrest (10/1/10). I was 24 weeks pregnant to the day and having preterm labor. My motherly instincts crept in and I knew I had to do what I needed to to protect the babies. I started thinking of them as real people then - little babies that were going to be born (and if I had my way, it'd be later rather than sooner). But it wasn't the same motherly love feeling I had as soon as the babies were born.
ReplyDeleteHannah. Now that girl I fell in love with the first time I saw her. I didn't get to hold her (and I don't really remember seeing her) right when she was born. She was whisked away to the NICU and I was faced with another birth... But after I was done delivering Ben and all recovered (about an hour/hour-and-a-half) after they were both born, I got to go to the NICU. That was when I first saw Hannah and my heart filled up with love. There was this little tiny creature in an incubator with the wildest, darkest hair I'd ever seen. And soft, furry, pink skin. They let me hold her and I loved loved loved loved her. She felt so small and so warm and so much mine. We checked each other out for a while - I have a picture of her "waving" from her swaddle. She didn't have a name at that point, but when I saw her beautiful face the name Hannah popped in my head. It fit perfectly.
Ben. Ben's a different story. He was harder to deliver (face down - ouch!) and I was so exhausted. He finally came out and he wasn't crying and was a little blue. His first agpar score was like 1 or 2. It was scary. They whisked him away to the NICU and got him set up on CPAP. After I held and fell in love with Hannah, I went to his room to see him. He was equally small, but I couldn't see him. He had the CPAP contraption on his face. Honestly, it was a little scary. I had a hard time thinking of him as my boy. He also had a hard time with O2 saturation for his first 2 days, so he wasn't even allowed to leave the incubator. I didn't get to hold him until his 3rd day of living. So, at first, I hate to admit it, my focus was on Hannah and Ben was a bit of an after-thought. Like, "Oh, I guess I better say hi to Ben while I'm here in the NICU." So I can't say I bonded with him right away. It wasn't even until Hannah came home and Ben was still in the NICU - but out of the incubator - that I feel like we got to know each other. I came to the NICU every day and got to hold him skin to skin and cuddle him and hold them both together. He loved being cuddled! He still does. And I still love to cuddle him. I think it's because I didn't get to hold him for 3 days. Now he's my snuggler and loves to cozy up to my shoulder and give me sloppy baby open mouthed kisses. We have more than made up for those first lost days.
I often see people with just one baby and get jealous that they have all the time in the world to love, cuddle, rock, snuggle, and bond with their baby. They don't have another one wanting a turn. They don't have to decide which crying baby gets picked up and which one has to learn to be patient at a tender age. They don't have to practice crawling with one baby while the other entertains herself in the pack and play. I often think that mothers of singletons must bond with their babies better than mothers of multiples. But, I feel like B & H and I have bonded to a depth that I never knew existed. So I remind myself to stop comparing myself to others and love up on my babies as much as I can.
From Becky-
ReplyDeleteI think I started feeling motherly the moment I saw “Pregnant” come up on the test. (I had miscarried 2 months earlier) My husband was out of town and when he got home and I told him, he picked me up and “threw” me on the bed. I was like “ahhhhh……I’ve been walking around as though I have a raw egg strapped to my belly!” Protective right away!
I saw the tiny heartbeat pulse at a 7 week ultrasound and it became more real. Then we saw a human face at his 12 week ultrasound……then at 20 weeks found out “it” was a he. I think that’s when it hit my husband. I was feeling and seeing my little boy move in my body and I tried to make sure I was giving him good nourishment. When he’d get the hiccups, I’d feel bad for him. When I didn’t feel him move for what seemed to be too long, I’d panic and one day I was tears by the time I got home to lay down and try to get him to move.
I went into labor and knew I’d see my son soon. The Dr. started talking about maybe having to do a C-Section then it went to, we ARE doing an emergency C-Section. I cried and said I don’t care what you do to me, just get him out safely. Scared to death I might lose my baby at any moment, I was wheeled into the operating room. Unable to see what was going on, I watched the look on my husband’s face. Then I waited……there it was…..the baby cried! I asked the nurse if he was okay and she said crying was a good sign. They brought him around for me to see and I thought “who is that”? He didn’t look like the ultrasound pics, didn’t look just like me, didn’t look just like my husband. I thought I’d recognize him.
We were wheeled back to our room and some time later I nursed him. I had no idea my husband was taking pics and video. I see those pics now and it melts my heart. I look a mess with my hair all over the place, but completely consumed by the little baby at my breast.
I was home alone with him more than I really should have been in the very beginning. I was so worried I’d be one of those mother’s who did something horrible to their baby out of frustration or sleeplessness. But those thoughts never crossed my mind. He was my precious baby I’d wanted for so long. Now he’s almost a year old and still my precious baby I’d always wanted!
From Jess S. :
ReplyDeleteI had a very rough first year with my son. He was not a hard baby by any means. But I think our situation made it very hard for me to love being a mama. We lived in South Carolina where my husband was stationed at the Air Force base there. We had a lot of great friends but no family nearby and most of the time I was by myself while my husband was on trips and deployments.
I was beyond depressed, lonely and totally overwhelmed with my new role as a mom. I had gone from being a career woman to being a stay at home mom over night and most days I asked myself "Is this really my path? Why dont I love being a mom? Why isnt it enough for me just to spend time with my son?"
I was also overcome with guilt that I didnt feel that motherly bond with him I saw in a lot of other moms.
For me I dont think there was an exact moment or grand epiphany that I loved my son. I think I grew to love my son more everyday as I learned what it was to take on my roll as a mom.
Now my kiddo is almost 4 and I wonder how I ever got by without him. All those lonely hours that he and I spent alone as mother and son over the years has given us the most incredible bond. How lonely would I be without him!!
So for me "becoming a mom" has been a process of evolution, a process of becoming confident in myself as a mother, and of accepting the huge responsibility of raising another human being.
I just read back over these comments and am so moved by your honesty and transparency. Thank you mamas for your thoughts- I really do treasure sharing this space with you.
ReplyDeleteSarah
Kelly here.
ReplyDeleteWith Sam (my first) I was a Mama from the moment my husband's dad died. He died when I was 18 weeks pregnant with Sam. I remember leaving work (it was the day after Christmas, and my mother in law called me at work and wanted me to be with my husband when he found out his dad died). I left work, don't remember calling my parents in the car (or really driving home at all). I walked into our bedroom (lazy husband was still asleep at 930am) and only then did loose it, I cried and cried and told him that his dad had died during the night (Christmas night). I always say he was the "most excited grandparent" - a family doctor who loved kids and a true child at heart, loving "playing" and all things Mickey Mouse.
I remember Brent saying "So, I don't get to talk to my dad anymore?" Brent called him for advice on everything. Next, he said "And he didn't get to meet our baby!" We were freaking out, packing for Pueblo (about 2 hours south of Denver), and driving as fast as we could to get down there. We were about 30 minutes into the drive when I realized that I was cramping, a lot. The baby ended up being OK, I just had to breathe and drink water and breathe and calm down. My brother in law (also a family practice doctor) did and ultrasound in his dad's office in Pueblo (with the new ultrasound machine that Tom had bought when he found out Brent and I were pregnant - and never got to use on me). I remember all of us (Brent's extended family) crying and very relieved to see a strong heartbeat and a kicking, very active little baby. Who I thought I loved before that moment, but I felt a new fierce, protective, mama-lion growing within me. He was mine and I would keep him healthy and safe.
My daughter, sweet Elin. I had a feeling she was a girl because my pregnancy was so different with her. I was (and am) nervous about being a "girl mama" and always envisioned having a house full of boys. We were still surprised at 20 weeks that she was a girl, and I definitely didn't feel fierce or protective over her for quite a while. She was born, we brought her home, she was just a sweet little thing who was very quiet and barely made noises. When she was a couple weeks old, she was napping in the study and I was playing a game with Sam. I didn't know she had woken up (like I said, she didn't really make noise)... and then I heard a strange sound... CRYING!
I remember going to pick her up and I saw her sweet little face with her bottom lip curled down and her crying. And oh my, it took a good minute of holding her to get her to calm down. I thought that I was in for it, this girl had "drama"... and instead of hating this "girl drama" that I feared... I loved it. She went from "Sweet Baby Elin" to "Drama Mama" (still her nickname, sometimes just shortened to "Drama"). And I became "Drama"'s Mama.