Today is my birthday. Every year on my birthday, my mother calls and tells me the story of the day I was born (or more accurately, the days leading up to my birth plus the day I was born). It's the best tradition ever. I could recite the story for her at this point, but it's so much fun to pick up the phone and have her say, "do you want to hear about the day you were born?"
"Yes!"
"Ok, well, the night before Valentine's Day we went to a big dance, and your father and I danced so much because I was hoping it would encourage you to be born the next day. I was so excited! Anyway..." and she recites the whole story, and tells me that from the day I was born, she loved me like crazy and always had so much fun with me.
This year, obviously, is the first time that I've listened to the story as a mother myself, and it gave me such different perspective. When she called, it was about 6:30 in the morning Hawaii time, and Jason was getting Zeke dressed and ready for school. When he came in and brought me the phone, he had Zeke in his arms, and when Zeke saw me and heard my voice, he gave me this enormous smile. And he has the best, best smile. He's got this gorgeous dimple and when he smiles he opens his mouth really wide and just looks like he wants to shout for sheer joy. It's wonderful.
So for the first time, I felt like I truly understood the joy my mother had with me as a baby, and it gave me a burst of love both for her and for Zeke that practically made my chest explode. Like I was finally experiencing motherhood the way it was supposed to be experienced.
Because nobody ever tells you this before you have a baby, but the initial couple of weeks (even months) after giving birth can be grueling and difficult, and sometimes it's hard to feel that rush of baby love that you feel like you're supposed to have. I heard all of these stories about moms who give birth and the first time they hold their child, they feel this instant rush of intense love for their baby.
But I didn't feel that when Zeke was first born, and I felt horrible about it. I was too exhausted and in pain and just worn out, mentally and physically, by the whole experience.
Don't get me wrong -- I loved him because he was my child and I felt protective of him and enjoyed holding him and snuggling with him. But for the first two months -- and in particular, the first four weeks -- I felt completely shell-shocked. My hormones were going crazy, so I cried at the drop of a hat, my body felt weird and mushy after being pregnant for so long, I was depressed because I really wanted to breastfeed but wasn't able to produce enough milk, I was completely exhausted all the time, and I was mentally on edge because there was this tiny helpless person that needed me for everything and I felt like I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do with him half the time. Plus he wasn't really reacting yet to our faces or our voices, so it was hard to feel like he really knew us or felt any connection to us.
But then, slowly, Jason and I both became more competent with the baby care, and Zeke started to settle into more regular patterns of eating and sleeping, and it became easier.
And then he smiled at us for the first time when he was about 2 1/2 months old, and we fell in love with him all over again. A different kind of love than we had felt before -- this love felt truer and unique to Zeke himself, because we were getting to know him not just as this blob that we were taking care of, but as an individual with a budding personality. Soon he was seeking out our faces when he heard our voices, and enjoying bathtime (and pre-bath time), and giving us huge toothless grins when we sing to him or make funny faces or even peek into the crib in the morning when it's time to get up. We spend time with him and marvel at what a wonder he is and how much we adore him.
The other day, Jason and I picked Zeke up from daycare together, and Jason sat in the back seat with him while I drove home. Jason made a funny face or noise or something, and Zeke laughed. A full, "hahaha" real laugh. Jason burst into tears, it made him so happy.
So now I understand that crazy, wonderful baby love that parents experience. And it's just the best birthday present ever.
So, so beautiful! What a wonderful story, Wendy.
ReplyDeleteIt's so good to read that and know that there are other women whose experiences mirror mine. Not that I'd wish it on anyone. But still....
That is an amazing tradition that you share with your mom and what a beautiful gift that she gave you this year.
I hope you're having a wonderful weekend!
That is SUCH a great tradition--I love it! Oh, and happy belated birthday!!
ReplyDeleteAhhh, happy birthday, Wendy J!
ReplyDeleteSherice