I remember an old detergent commercial that began with a young woman saying, "I'm a new mom..." as a little boy bounced into view. I thought, "You're not a new mom! That kid's got to be at least 4 years old!" Real moms passed the torch and surrendered the title "new" sometime after the first year. Didn't they?

I, on the other hand, was a new mom. With a brand-new baby, I was still learning what it meant to be a mother. The self-sacrifice required was developing slowly, and with no little resistance on my part. It had started with pregnancy, of course. After two miscarriages, handing my body over to my child for nine months had been frightening, exhilarating, uncomfortable and hard. But, it had been worth it – worth the morning sickness, the sticky, messy progesterone treatment, the sciatica, the 24 plus hours of induced labor and finally, the forceps. It was worth it all, because when our daughter was finally dragged into the world she erased every ugly, messy detail that had led to her debut. (Oh, not to the point that I can't recall it all in excruciating detail, as I've just proven, but enough that I went on to have more children, and that's saying a lot.)

Then the next phase of sacrifice began. During labor, I'd developed a fever. Immediately after her birth, my baby was whisked away for testing and antibiotics because she, too, had a fever. In those first few hours I was in and out of lucidity and all I could think of was sleep. I remember asking myself, when they brought my daughter in for a nursing, "Why do they keep bringing me this baby?!" Only to realize, "Oh, yeah. I'm the mother." The reality and magnitude of my responsibility suddenly overwhelmed me. I'm the mother.

Mothering, I soon learned, meant sleepless nights, patience through the crying jags (hers and mine) and lots of diapers. It meant talking in a squeaky little voice so foreign to me that I sometimes glanced around to make sure strangers hadn't heard. (Oh, I know – most people at least forgive, and at best admire, a good baby-talker, but I hadn't yet learned that.) And the clichés! Alas, they were all coming true. Having a baby was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. It was a fierce and primal thing that shook me. It did make me reexamine my life, my identity and my shoe size. And, most amazing, I really did enjoy watching my charming little baby daughter sleep. Who knew that somnolence could be so captivating?

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