A Baby Changes Everything 1/13/2009

There are several people on my friends list here and on Facebook that are heavily expecting their first children.  Two will deliver within the next few weeks.  There have been pictures posted of their baby showers, new, fresh nurseries, and all the little baby things that are needed for a new bundle of joy.  Bags are packed for the hospital.  Tiny clothes are in brand new drawers waiting to be filled.  Blankets are in the cribs, waiting to warm that precious little one.  The photos are beautiful.  They are joyous.  They are full of love, as they should be.  Over the past few days I have been thinking about how much my life has changed since December 14, 2004 and what I would tell these women if I could put into words what I wanted to pass down to them as wisdom.  My heart is full.  There is so much to say.

I wish I could convey to them the overwhelming pain they will feel that pales in comparison to the anticipation of finally holding their new baby.  I wish I could explain to them how happy they will feel to meet their baby, how many hours they will spend just staring at him/her, wondering what she ever did without him/her.  I wish I could convey how heartwrenching it will be when they take their baby home and hear the baby cry and cry and cry, not knowing what to do to fix the problem.  I wish I could make them understand they are going to go through the roller coaster of high feelings of victory when the baby is happy and content and low valleys of agonizing defeats when the crying won't stop. 

I wish I could teach them the "everything is fine" face they will give everyone when they haven't slept in three days and they're truly exhausted past all points they ever thought humanly possible.  I wish I could prepare them for the phenomenal shift in their priorities that takes place entirely on it's own.  No longer is their shower important, the baby's bath is.  No longer is their meal important, the baby's bottle is.  I wish I could prepare them for the times they will get up out of bed, tiptoe into the baby's room, and peer over the edge of the crib, just to make sure he/she is still breathing.  I wish I could convey the joyous elation they will feel when the baby looks at her and says, ever so clearly there is no mistaking it, "Ma-ma" and smiles in recognition.  And I wish I could tell her that the time between labor and "ma-ma" will pass in the blink of an eye, even though it seems to take forever and a day. 

I wish I could convey the overwhelming simultaneous pride and terror she will feel when her baby begins to walk and talk and become a person seperate from her.  When independence begins to take over, as it should, and she knows this is normal and good but secretly she wishes for the days when she could just hold her baby once again.  Firsts come everyday and she will never remember all of them, even if she takes photos every moment of everyday.  She will do the absolute best she can, because that is what mothers do and she will know her child knows she is doing the best she can. 

 

I wish I could explain the frustration she will feel when her child learns to talk and argue with her.  How she'll realize she did her job too well.  She's raising an intelligent, thoughtful child who is wise beyond her years but still little, and that makes some decisions hard.  I wish I could make her understand how sometimes just getting ready for school will be an ordeal filled with tears and screaming, despite her best efforts.  Why?  Because her child is still a child and wants what he/she wants.  But through it all, she will want to gather her baby close, hug him/her tight, and reassure him/her everything's ok.  But she won't give in to changing his/her, she will remind him/her that there was a choice of what to wear, the choice was made, and now it's too late to change.  And they will drive to school, tears and all.  And the teachers will laugh, assure her she's doing the right thing teaching life lessons, and send her to work.  And she will go to work.  But the whole time, she'll want to run back, grab her baby, and smother her in kisses.  Why?  Because that's what mothers do.