Saturday
Jul102010
Becoming "Mom"
Saturday, July 10, 2010 at 7:37AM
The other day we all had dinner at my folks' house along with another young couple with a five-month old. The next morning, Tom turns to me and says, "It's amazing how the mom instinct takes over." And when I asked what he meant he replied with, "I mean, you and Kate (mom from said young couple) were young chicks not too long ago and now you're both amazing moms."
When I really started to think about it, I started to think that he's right. I mean, it's only been five weeks, but the more I think about it, the more I agree.
But not in the way he thinks.
Tom referred to it as "the mom instinct." I don't really feel like any mothering instincts have been awakened in me thus causing me to cut my hair and wear clothes that are permanently spit-up ready. No, it's more like, well, this is just what I HAVE to do. The baby came and she needs to be taken care of. Period. Fed. Proper sleep patterns. Bathed. Dressed for the temperature. Taken to the doctor. Care for her baby skin rash. Suck out her boogers. Have her senses stimulated for learning and fun. Learning her cries. Change diapers. Know when it's time to transition to the next phase of eating, sleeping, playing, etc.
And I do it. I just do it. I wake up, feed, stimulate, read to, sing to, dance with, rock, bounce, walk, take outside, go on outings, calm, clean and dress. Because I love her, I want the best for her and it needs to be done.
No instincts. Just knowing what needs to be done that comes from a desire to give her the best.
And you know what, I think I do all these things pretty well so far. And so does my friend, Kate. And neither of us knew crap all before this.
That dinner the other night, it was so interesting. I noticed things. In the first few weeks, I gladly gave Sailor over to my mom when Sailor would get fussy and my mom would say in such a calming voice, "Here, I'll take her." And the other night, I took her. I was the one to take her into my folks' bedroom and calm her. I was the one who knew what she needed. And I watched as Kate did the same with her baby. Everyone was there to help, the dads and my parents, but ultimately it was us, the moms, who ended up with the sleeping babies in our arms. And then, we put the babies in another room to sleep and we went back to the table to enjoy more wine and adult conversation.
I felt so like an adult. I remember when it was me who was little and I'd be put in the other room when I started to doze off. I remember hearing the sound of conversation that I didn't understand. That I knew wasn't meant for me. It was a world that seemed so removed. A world I wasn't invited to. And there was such comfort in drifting off in the other room, the drone of chatter and outbursts of laughter infiltrating my dreams.
And now that unfamiliar land is the one I dwell in. It became so real that night at dinner. There's now a little girl in this world whose dreams MY chatter and laughter will infiltrate.
And, although hers is a world I'm no longer a part of, it's a world I remember well. A world that, as I lay beside her watching her drift off, I got to visit again for a few moments.
And I think that's a lot of what it is to me to be "mom." To live in the adult world, where I am "parent" and take care of all the things I have assumed responsibility for. But to visit and remember that other world with and for my daughter often. So I can make her time in that world happy, sweet and full of love.
When I really started to think about it, I started to think that he's right. I mean, it's only been five weeks, but the more I think about it, the more I agree.
But not in the way he thinks.
Tom referred to it as "the mom instinct." I don't really feel like any mothering instincts have been awakened in me thus causing me to cut my hair and wear clothes that are permanently spit-up ready. No, it's more like, well, this is just what I HAVE to do. The baby came and she needs to be taken care of. Period. Fed. Proper sleep patterns. Bathed. Dressed for the temperature. Taken to the doctor. Care for her baby skin rash. Suck out her boogers. Have her senses stimulated for learning and fun. Learning her cries. Change diapers. Know when it's time to transition to the next phase of eating, sleeping, playing, etc.
And I do it. I just do it. I wake up, feed, stimulate, read to, sing to, dance with, rock, bounce, walk, take outside, go on outings, calm, clean and dress. Because I love her, I want the best for her and it needs to be done.
No instincts. Just knowing what needs to be done that comes from a desire to give her the best.
And you know what, I think I do all these things pretty well so far. And so does my friend, Kate. And neither of us knew crap all before this.
That dinner the other night, it was so interesting. I noticed things. In the first few weeks, I gladly gave Sailor over to my mom when Sailor would get fussy and my mom would say in such a calming voice, "Here, I'll take her." And the other night, I took her. I was the one to take her into my folks' bedroom and calm her. I was the one who knew what she needed. And I watched as Kate did the same with her baby. Everyone was there to help, the dads and my parents, but ultimately it was us, the moms, who ended up with the sleeping babies in our arms. And then, we put the babies in another room to sleep and we went back to the table to enjoy more wine and adult conversation.
I felt so like an adult. I remember when it was me who was little and I'd be put in the other room when I started to doze off. I remember hearing the sound of conversation that I didn't understand. That I knew wasn't meant for me. It was a world that seemed so removed. A world I wasn't invited to. And there was such comfort in drifting off in the other room, the drone of chatter and outbursts of laughter infiltrating my dreams.
And now that unfamiliar land is the one I dwell in. It became so real that night at dinner. There's now a little girl in this world whose dreams MY chatter and laughter will infiltrate.
And, although hers is a world I'm no longer a part of, it's a world I remember well. A world that, as I lay beside her watching her drift off, I got to visit again for a few moments.
And I think that's a lot of what it is to me to be "mom." To live in the adult world, where I am "parent" and take care of all the things I have assumed responsibility for. But to visit and remember that other world with and for my daughter often. So I can make her time in that world happy, sweet and full of love.
Copyright; 2011, Blahggy. All rights reserved.
Reader Comments (9)
thank you for this post. the last 4 paragraphs are the words and feelings i've had in the last year and a half with having Greyson, and now Violette.
you made me cry.
Shelly
I think you're right - there's no "mom" instinct, just doing what you have to do. Since it is usually the woman who stays home with the baby, she's the one who has to learn what to do. The one to have it all on her shoulders. And she learns.
It's that simple.
I don't think women have anything men don't have, except the ability to lactate, and obviously that isn't even a necessity to be a parent. If it were the father staying home every day, doing what needed to be done, he'd be the one being the "amazing mom".
It's called parenting, and whoever has to do it... becomes a parent.
Thank you, Shelly. It's a crazy feeling, huh? Something only moms can understand, I think.
This was beautiful...the whole full circle concept as you remember your own childhood and then look at Sailor's just beginning. Love this.
I have tears in my eyes to. That was just beautiful.
I am also all teary, even though I am not yet a mom. You are such a wonderful writer, and I feel like I can start to understand what it will be like to be a mom myself, so thank you for being inspirational.
This is beautiful...you're making me all emotional and stuff.
I remember those times, too. The muffled sounds from the other room were practically the biggest mysteries to a kid like me. Isn't it strange to be on the other side now?
Nicely put. I don't think we go through 9 months of exhaustion, and then umpteen hours of really painful moments that still haunt us in our nightmares and then BOOM we are mommafied! It's learning, making mistakes, loving, making a decision...to put someone else before ourselves.