One Month of Motherhood

One month of motherhood.

Well, one month and 39 weeks, because the worrying and the hormones and the general overwhelming desire to protect the little human did start as soon as I got a positive pregnancy test. Mostly the worrying...

In that one month, Henry has quite the adventuresome life, and, therefore, so have we. Despite the unique start, I imagine most of my own feelings and experiences as a mom thus far are probably rather common. 

I now understand why my mom friends never wear their hair down (either it gets in the way while breastfeeding, or baby is grabbing on for dear life...or you just haven't had time to take a shower more than 2 minutes long while you hope baby stays asleep) and why they said they watched so much TV in the early months (when your baby is a slow eater, those late night feedings take a long time...whoever tells me they can get the feeding and a diaper change and baby back to sleep in less than 20 minutes is either a magician or lying). 

[Also, this Mama gets late night feedings on the regular, and my skill at prepping snacks and eating them one-handed has improved immensely. I once peeled an orange over his head, and I'm 75% sure no juice got onto his face.]

I've kept new mom anxiety fairly low so far, helped by the fact that we had nurses watching over him 24-7 for the first week, and many people at the hospital who walked us through new parent skills and assured us he was stronger than he looked.*

*I can tell you he is certainly strong. He throws that head around like a bowling ball and I have to be on guard at all times to catch it.

That being said, I am very worried about Henry getting sick before he starts his vaccines (no anti-vaxers in this house), as everything you read about baby's getting sick before two months is enough to strike fear deep in your heart, with words like 'spinal tap' mentioned--and not in reference to the movie. I don't want anyone else touching him and even fully vaccinated (including Tdap) family members coming to visit will likely be required to wash their hands 14 times before they even approach. Sun protection for a newborn is also quite challenging, and any walking outside causes anxiety of sunburn--boy has certainly got mama's fair skin--or people leaning in too close. 

My greatest moment of worry so far was that he had spiked a fever after taking his first walk, literally only two short blocks in the late afternoon. After opening a new thermometer and having my mom take everyone in the house's temperature, I was reassured that he was fine; I just had never held him in short sleeves and wasn't used to his warm head and body. 

So, one month in and I am what I imagine is a typical new mom: unable to comprehend sweeping a floor or consistently doing laundry, worrying over the kiddo, and up at hours I haven't seen since college. [All of this made more bearable by the fact that MY mom is still here. Let us not discuss her departure this week.]

I still haven’t quite reconciled the fact that the little man is ours. Forever. To paraphrase a friend of mine: the parents aren’t coming home at the end of the night, because WE are the parents!

And while I do now feel like I’ve been welcomed into an inclusive (rather than exclusive...I find my mama network to be very nonjudgmental and supportive) sorority, constantly asking my Big Sisters what I need to know and relying on them to guide me through the pledge period, so to speak, it still sort of feels like I’m playing the role of ‘Mom’ in a late night (VERY late night) TV movie.*

*Probably not on Hallmark since I am neither a barely concealed version of Mrs. Claus, nor offering wise words of wisdom, and cookies, to a child who has returned home from the big city to fall back in love with their high school sweetheart at a harvest festival.

But somehow it feels like a role I’ve been waiting for my entire life.

It’s hard to say if I’ve been “profoundly changed” or if I’m just becoming more of myself, in a way.

To be honest, I didn’t feel the rush of attachment immediately when Henry was born. I don’t know if it was because he was taken so quickly away from me, or just the general loss of a grasp on reality that comes after labor and delivery and the chaos of the aftermath, or something else entirely. I obviously felt connection to him, but it wasn’t the overwhelming feeling you hear about. Not immediately.

But sometime later that day or maybe it was the day after that (see previously mentioned confused sense of reality) I was suddenly struck by intense and deeply rooted love. Since then, I am certain I have memorized his face, and continue to marvel in the development of his expressions. It is hard not to melt when he stares at you with THOSE EYES.*

*My brother says it is important that babies be cute, or else when they refuse to CLOSE those eyes in the middle of the night, you’d give up immediately on raising them.

One other surprise for me was how sad I felt for a few days that he and I weren’t alone together anymore. I missed being the only one who really could feel him and know him. I missed his constant movement and his kicks, and I forgot I wasn’t pregnant a few times. (I can sleep on my back now? I can lie on my stomach? No more reflux?! I can eat sushi and prosciutto!?)

It’s hard to truly reconcile any emotions right now, and so much of the understanding of what motherhood means to me (which sounds like a Chicken Soup for the Soul story) probably won’t be within my grasp until I can sleep more than 90 minutes in a row, but I do know that what my friend Katie says is true: 

Even though I still haven’t fully comprehended that life exists only with him from now, I also can’t believe we ever lived our lives without him either.