There was a period – albeit a brief one – when I actually felt like I had
it all together as a parent. It started from the time my little angel was born at five till midnight on Monday and lasted until just about 8 a.m. on
Wednesday morning. Of course I had no real parenting responsibilities during this time. The kind nurses on the maternity ward rocked her,
changed her and brought her to me for nursing. Even though the feedings didn't go very well, I was so happy labor was over that I hardly
noticed that the little snickerdoodle was chewing my nipples.
But by Wednesday it was time to go home and that's when it hit me – I was a mother. I was the one she'd look to to feed, change, clothe and otherwise take care of her for the rest of her life – or at least the next 18 years. I was supposed to know what I was doing.
Motherhood is as much about letting go as it is about keeping on top of things. |
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The enormity of the situation weighed so heavily on my mind that I could barely sleep (which actually wasn't all that much of a problem since I wasn't getting much opportunity to sleep, anyhow). But between my hormones waging warfare with my sanity, my determination to sterilize everything within a 5-mile radius of my baby's bassinet and an intense fear of going somewhere and leaving the baby behind, I was convinced I'd never relax again.
What I discovered, however, is that motherhood is as much about letting go as it is about keeping on top of things. And when I learned to let go, get help and give in to my own needs, things got better – much better.
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