I submitted this article to City Works Press around the time you were 2 years old. I just found it in my computer files and decided to post it here. I believe it was for a prize. I didn't win and I don't believe it was published anywhere. I have, however, had a short story published in USA Weekends Student Fiction Contest, a poem published in The Ebbing Tide and for the Mile High Poetry Society, as well as winning several local poetry contests during high school. Plus, some local articles I wrote for a variety of magazines and online publications after I became a yoga therapist.
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There are many things in pregnancy
no one tells you about. Most women make
pregnancy sound like it's an out of this world, amazingly perfect
experience. Don't get me wrong, I am
fortunate I had the opportunity to experience it, but it is far from
perfect. I had what women call an “easy”
pregnancy. One with no morning sickness,
no stretch marks, and no complications.
Despite the supposed “ease” of my pregnancy, it was not enjoyable. I felt like an alien being had taken over my
body and I had no control. A body I was
very in tune with and worked so hard to get, started to morph before my eyes
just eight weeks after my little egg turned into this human being. It began with extremely sore breasts. Half the time I couldn't put my arms down to
my sides. Even wearing a bra or heavy
shirt made me flinch. Shortly after that
I got my first UTI (urinary tract infection).
I felt the need to pee constantly, after arriving in the bathroom for
the hundredth time, nothing would come out.
Even after curing the UTI, the peeing didn't stop. The toilet and I became very close during
these nine months. Fatigue came over me
and never ended, due to the frequent night-time visits to my new flushing
friend. I used maternity bands. A remarkable invention, a tube top that hides
your growing belly so you can wear old shirts and pants without showing pale,
stretching skin. I had frequent
headaches, not terrible ones, just annoying ones that set in and make you
slightly irritable. Meat disgusted me
for weeks, the smell made me gag. Every
piece of food entering my mouth brought on indigestion. My insides felt like they were filled with
helium gas. My brains turned to
mush. I started to forget where I put
things, forgot conversations I had only moments before, and even started
forgetting names of people I'd known for years.
Momentarily of course, but no less embarrassing. As the baby grew, my sciatic nerve became
pinched. The pain shooting across my
lower back and down my leg would knock my leg right out from under me. I took a permanent leave of absence from my
job to go home and “nest.” I had a
sudden urge to go through every drawer and closet and organize them top to
bottom! I cleaned like the President was
coming for a visit. Yet another fun side
effect of pregnancy!
Telling
a pregnant woman all the “no-no's” of pregnancy is like listening to a
prescription drug commercial. While
pregnant, do not consume raw or under cooked fish, no caffeine, alcohol, or
drugs; medicinal or otherwise. Do not
change your cat's litter box without wearing a nuclear gas mask, do not enjoy
hot baths, hot showers, or hot tubs. Do
not expose yourself to stress, x-rays, microwaves, or any strong
chemicals. Contact with any of these
things could cause severe birth defects or premature labor. It is highly recommended to sleep in one
position for six months of your pregnancy to be sure you don't cut off oxygen
to the baby. This last one led to many
sleepless nights. When I did get sleep,
I would have nightmares of dropping the baby, leaving it places, or starving it
with my faulty breastfeeding. The first time I broke one of the
“no-no's” came after reading several books outlining them in detail. One fear I had was getting blood clots,
common in pregnancy. Being the hypochondriac
I am, I thought I might have a blood clot in my leg. I was directed by a physician to put a
heating pad on it. Feeling the soothing
warmth, I promptly fell asleep. When I
awoke in the middle of the night, the heating pad had migrated to my stomach
which was toasty warm. The books had
warned of falling asleep while using heating pads. I had broken one of the “no-no” rules! The panic began and I couldn't help waking my
husband to tell him I had cooked our baby in the first weeks of gestation. I was going to be a terrible mother.
Once
the baby started kicking and doing summersaults on my organs, this whole
experience finally became real. I felt
wonder at how I could be growing a real human in my own uterus. All of the terrible, uncomfortable, annoying
reactions I'd had so far in pregnancy paled in comparison to feeling my little
ones feet against my ribs. What I
wouldn't have given for my husband to experience this with me, not just by
touching the belly, but by really feeling what I felt. Carrying around a “paternity belly” from
birthing class would never fully simulate how a growing, moving six pound child
inside of you felt.
Emotions
were a roller coaster. I'm not one for
crying, but it seemed pregnancy brought on quite a bit of tears. I bawled like a baby while watching a natural
birth on DVD at my prenatal class. Birth may be natural, but it is far from
beautiful. There was no possible way my
body could endure that kind of torture.
I was certain I couldn't handle it, but knew there was no turning
back. The baby was obviously going to
have to come out one way or another. I
continued to cry all the way home.
Every
woman's experience with birth is different.
We all experience a level of pain at some point during the process. Thanks to an epidural, the best moment of
birth was holding him in my arms, hearing the words, “it's a boy.” As his mother, it seems I had known it all
along. It's after the drugs wear off and
the weeks following no one tells you about.
No one told me I would have to carry a tackle box of supplies with me to
the bathroom after giving birth. Diapers
thicker than my sons, antiseptic spray, a squirt bottle of water to keep the
urine from burning while you pee, plus the antibiotic ointment and cream. I changed my diaper in the first several days
as often as I changed my sons. I was
terrified to spread my legs any further than an inch for fear my insides would
simply fall out. Sitting down on my
behind was no longer an option, it was more of a one butt cheek lean. In between cat naps, nursing every couple of
hours, and changing both of our diapers, I had to find time to take the doctor
prescribed three baths a day to soften the sutures and ease the itching. Healing was worse than any contraction and
lasted much longer.
Breastfeeding
is also an incredible experience, only felt as a mother. You and the child get to spend quality time
together looking into each other's eyes, memorizing each other's faces. As special as this time was, a part of me
started to feel like a dairy cow. My
baby loved consuming everyone's attention, but when he saw the face of his
“mooomy” coming to pick him up, boy did he smile! Breast pumping with a fancy electric double
pump is yet another unattractive aspect to motherhood. It will make you appreciate dairy cows and
the gallons of milk you've consumed in your lifetime.
Once
pregnancy is over and birth is an afterthought, sleep is what you crave. Sleep after children becomes a precious
commodity. I used to always say,
"We sleep when we die." The
older I get, the more sleep I seem to require.
I knew after having a child, my sleep would be disrupted. I prepared myself by reading all the books on
how to get your baby to sleep through the night. I read ones my friends swore worked for their
children. I was sure it would work for
me, it sounded simple. I also thought
"sleeping through the night" meant 7-8 hours of uninterrupted
sleep. It turns out some childhood
experts define "sleeping through the night" as four consecutive hours
of uninterrupted sleep. I beg to
differ! After four months of my definition
of sleepless nights, I was frustrated beyond belief and extremely tired. We had tried it all, but there always seemed
to be a cold, or a tooth coming in, or a bad nap that threw our overtired man
out of the loop. It's possible I'd been
doing something terribly wrong and hadn't figured out what made my child sleep
well. Or it could be he's simply active
and also believes what I used to, "we sleep when we die."
Despite
the discomfort of pregnancy, the pain of birth and healing, and the lack of
sleep, every wonderful experience that lay ahead was fresh and new for my son
and I. The first time he laughed. The bubbly sound of a child's laughter will
fill your heart with joy. The first
word, “da-da,” a word that rolled off my tongue a million times, finally
escaped my son's little lips. His first
wobbly steps into my arms and the surprise in his face when he realized he'd
walked just as you or I would every day.
Now,
a simple yet perfect day as a mother, is to wake up spending an hour snuggling
in bed with him while he sips on his morning milk. In between nibbles, he talks quietly as if
reciting all the words he knows, glad to have woken another day and still
remember them. At breakfast, he allows
me to prepare the meal without pulling on my pant leg for my immediate
attention. He eats his meals throughout
the day without throwing food on the floor.
Typically food flies, despite the glare I give him and the fact he knows
I hate it, but does it anyway as if it's all a game. After his meals he runs to his toy box and
gets out his favorite toy of the day, his bulldozer. He patiently pushes it back and forth and
makes growling noises, imitating a loud engine.
When the work is finally done in the kitchen and I approach him to play,
he smiles and runs to show me more of his toys.
Toys I am thoroughly aware of after picking them up daily. I ask him if he wants to go outside and he
says, "outs" and points to the door.
He gets his shoes and works diligently at putting them on himself. With some help, he is all smiles and we are
running out the door. There is something
about sunshine that makes us glow with happiness. There is an aura around us as we blow
bubbles, bounce balls, run through the grass, and chase leaves. His dad gets home from work and my heart
swells when my son runs into his arms.
Ready for a new set of adventures for the day with his daddy. The sun starts to set and the grill is
emitting a scent of something delicious.
A warm breeze, a porch swing, background music, and a glass of
wine. My happy son, laughing at his
happy father, gives me the perfect setting for happiness. After bath, he's either cooperative or
uncooperative in getting on his pajama's.
He asks for "book, bankie (blankie), pug (plug or pacifier), and
milk." So that's what we do. In the quiet of his room with only a lamp for
light, we sit and read. He lets me know
which books he's in the mood to hear saying, "no" and pushing it away
if I didn't pick the right one. Or he'll
tell me, "Elmo” or “Caillou” or whatever his favorite character of the
week happens to be. He occasionally
takes a sip of milk, but must always have his pacifier. What ever will we do when it's time to get
rid of that thing? After a few books we
brush our teeth. He gives me the
opportunity to hold him in my arms like I would when he was a baby. Only now he's heavy and so long most of his
body is hanging off of me. I hold him
and sing to him, "You Are My Sunshine" and he listens and looks in my
eyes just like he used to. And I have a
moment I want to capture in time, as I think, how many more times will I get a
chance to do this? Probably not many and
I'm going to miss it. I lay him down and
he says, "night-night mommy."
Ah, the perfect day.
There
are also the not-so-proud moments when your child tries to get your attention
in a naughty way. For instance, one day
my son found my black eye liner and the bathroom door, the rest explains
itself. As I squatted and scrubbed
describing to him how we only write on paper not on doors, he kisses me once,
then twice, then three times. I of
course, trying not to smile, smile harder and kiss back. How is it possible he knows just what will
make me forget about his evil deed? If
only, years from now, when he does something wrong and finds me disappointed in
him, do I wish he would give me kisses to make me forget all about it!
Becoming
a mother happens in an instant, being a mother lasts a lifetime. Today my toddler walks beside me with his
tiny hand tightly wrapped around one of my fingers and I am thankful that he
graces me with his presence. All the
pain and hard times are made up for in the smallest moments when I see the
world through his eyes. I am blessed
that he brings me into his world to see things at his level, new and
unexplored. My son fulfilled an
emptiness in my life and brightened my world with his joy. The day I became a mother was fate, for I no
longer know what it means to not be one.
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