Mother's Day
I gave up my sleep. I think that was the first thing to go. From the second I was pregnant, I was uncomfortable and practically an insomniac. People would always joke that it was my body's way of prepping me for the lack of sleep that comes with a newborn...and, of course, the word "joke" is used quite loosely here, because we all know that there's nothing funny about a pregnant woman who can't sleep.
My body. I gave that up, too. There are some women who get pregnant and have just the most precious bump with this glow that could make angels sing hymns of praise quietly in the background wherever she roams. And I was not one of those women. Cute little baby bump morphed quickly into "WOOOOOOOAH BABY" bump. The "glow" for me was just sweat from being nauseous constantly. Stretch marks etched themselves into my skin, like they were really hoping I would take up a side-gig as a zebra somewhere once the child was born. Everything I ate, drank, breathed, read, listened to was given a one-way ticket to the innocent life growing inside me, which is both remarkable and stressful beyond all understanding.
The sacrifice of my body went well beyond the pregnancy. The contractions came, but the progression of labor did not, and after days (with an 's', multiple days, emphasis on the plural here) of laboring, I was thrust into an emergency C-section. Exhaustion with no rest to be had. A new baby with no instruction manual. I couldn't move without tears of pain. I couldn't properly feed her because my hormones were so messed up. I couldn't think straight because of my pain and my hormones...
And I did this all over again for a second child. (Although, the second time around, we scheduled the C-section. I did not have the strength for a full-fledged, no-edits-made round two.)
BUT...if I went back in time, I wouldn't change a thing. I would keep it all the same. Every second of it. The phantom pains in my body that I still experience after all of this time. The loss of nerves in my stomach from the incision to bring you both into this world. The pain in my heart from the cries of a colicky baby, and the fatigue of my arms from holding her for hours at a time while she screamed. The tears that I shed as I gave him Benadryl again and again, praying I could figure out what to feed him so he could gain weight and stay free from hives. The pressure that hangs on me regularly, because I always have to convince myself that I'm not (entirely) screwing it all up...
Yes. I would do it all over again. Because the joy that they both bring into my life cannot be measured or contained. There are moments throughout each and every week that make me catch my breath, where I desperately try to hold onto their genuine goodness and remember all the small details of that quick timeframe. Abby checking in on a kid on the other soccer team after he scrapes his knee on the field. The sound of Teddy's not-so-little pitter-patter as he races in to tell me he's finished up another puzzle, with more pieces, all by himself. The endless art projects. The snuggles on the couch in the early morning. The cries for just one more story before bed...
My children have already begun to grow into compassionate, thoughtful, intelligent, sassy humans. "Pride is not the word I'm looking for...there is so much more inside me now..."
This weekend is a time to celebrate mothers, but really, I'm celebrating my kids. I'm a totally changed person, inside and out, because of who they were, who they are, and who they will be.
My body. I gave that up, too. There are some women who get pregnant and have just the most precious bump with this glow that could make angels sing hymns of praise quietly in the background wherever she roams. And I was not one of those women. Cute little baby bump morphed quickly into "WOOOOOOOAH BABY" bump. The "glow" for me was just sweat from being nauseous constantly. Stretch marks etched themselves into my skin, like they were really hoping I would take up a side-gig as a zebra somewhere once the child was born. Everything I ate, drank, breathed, read, listened to was given a one-way ticket to the innocent life growing inside me, which is both remarkable and stressful beyond all understanding.
The sacrifice of my body went well beyond the pregnancy. The contractions came, but the progression of labor did not, and after days (with an 's', multiple days, emphasis on the plural here) of laboring, I was thrust into an emergency C-section. Exhaustion with no rest to be had. A new baby with no instruction manual. I couldn't move without tears of pain. I couldn't properly feed her because my hormones were so messed up. I couldn't think straight because of my pain and my hormones...
And I did this all over again for a second child. (Although, the second time around, we scheduled the C-section. I did not have the strength for a full-fledged, no-edits-made round two.)
BUT...if I went back in time, I wouldn't change a thing. I would keep it all the same. Every second of it. The phantom pains in my body that I still experience after all of this time. The loss of nerves in my stomach from the incision to bring you both into this world. The pain in my heart from the cries of a colicky baby, and the fatigue of my arms from holding her for hours at a time while she screamed. The tears that I shed as I gave him Benadryl again and again, praying I could figure out what to feed him so he could gain weight and stay free from hives. The pressure that hangs on me regularly, because I always have to convince myself that I'm not (entirely) screwing it all up...
Yes. I would do it all over again. Because the joy that they both bring into my life cannot be measured or contained. There are moments throughout each and every week that make me catch my breath, where I desperately try to hold onto their genuine goodness and remember all the small details of that quick timeframe. Abby checking in on a kid on the other soccer team after he scrapes his knee on the field. The sound of Teddy's not-so-little pitter-patter as he races in to tell me he's finished up another puzzle, with more pieces, all by himself. The endless art projects. The snuggles on the couch in the early morning. The cries for just one more story before bed...
My children have already begun to grow into compassionate, thoughtful, intelligent, sassy humans. "Pride is not the word I'm looking for...there is so much more inside me now..."
This weekend is a time to celebrate mothers, but really, I'm celebrating my kids. I'm a totally changed person, inside and out, because of who they were, who they are, and who they will be.
Comments
Post a Comment