The Good, The Bad & The Ugly...

Let me offer you two very different, yet both true, perspectives on new mamahood. I'll call this the "good" and the "bad and ugly" perspectives. These are loosely based on my reality :)...

The "Good":
You wake up each morning to a precious little face, who smiles at you (ok, might be gas, but you are happy to believe its because she sees you), and is consoled by your arms, your milk, and your love. You can't believe that you created this being, yet you feel deep inside that its always been her. It just took you a long time to meet her. Your heart melts with her bird-like, feed me cry, and the way she eagerly sucks at your chin, mistaking it for your boob. You are so proud of her ~ and know that she will enrich your life beyond your imagination. You love each diaper change, even when you think you won't, because of the way she intently stares into your eyes, and flails her arms helplessly. She trusts you, and that trust is so sacred. You notice her cheek is pimply (sp?) in the spots where you are cheek to cheek so frequently. You kiss her at least a million times a day. You sniff her head over and inhale the sweet scent of babyhood. You even secretly sniff her newborn breath, and wonder if there is a better smell in the world. You miss her when you are not together, even if its for twenty minutes. You thank God for her arrival, for having a daughter, for this day. You whisper her name in her ear, and it sounds like the most beautiful name ever. Its her. You imagine every "first" that you will experience together and you can hardly wait. You slow down, though, because you know this sacred time with her will pass entirely too soon. Be in the moment, you tell yourself. You will do anything for this child. Even in exhaustion, when you curl up next to her at night, all is right. You feel fulfilled. You know this is the most important job in your life, and you will protect, nurture and love this child fiercely.

The "Bad & Ugly":
You slip away for a bath before you lose your sanity, after holding your child for what feels like 16 straight hours. You haven't had more than 2 hours of sleep at one time in weeks, and you are so darn tired. You take off your damp shirt, which is covered with spit up and milk leakage. You peer into the mirror and see a face you barely recognize. When was the last time you put any make-up on, you wonder? You get into the bath when you hear your baby cry. Sh*t. You were sure you finally got her down. You jump out of the tub, and hurry to your infant. You are thirsty. The glass of water is only 5 feet away, but your baby just fell asleep again in your arms. If you move, you will awaken her. You are too exhausted to do the dance again to put her back to sleep, and your back is a pillow of pinched nerves and knots from holding and feeding her. You are begging her to sleep in the swing for just 30 minutes. You could grab a bite to eat (after you put clothes on!) and even put the dishes away. You get her down, and grab some maternity clothes from the closet. You don't fit into your old clothes, and you are so darn sick of maternity clothes. You are shocked to discover stretch marks below your belly button. They've been there, but you couldn't see them before when your belly was round. Whose body is this anyway? You would love to get outside for fresh air, but its too frigid for the baby. Your baby wakes up again. You feed her for the umpteenth time today. You try to sling your baby so you can move more freely around the house, but she seems to hate it today. Only yesterday, you thought you had it all figured out. When is your husband coming home again??! You hurry to turn on a tv show that you swore, at one time in your life, you'd never watch. You curse the writers strike that has new episodes put on hold during the only time in your life when you're stuck indoors. You do anything but focus on the thought lingering in the back of your mind... you'll do this dance again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. You remind yourself to focus only on today.

For all the good AND the bad and ugly, I truly wouldn't trade where I am right now for anything in the world. And its also very hard. What works one day no longer seems to apply the next. I find myself offering compassion to me, too, when she is crying and I am feeling helpless. I imagine that I am soothing us both, because mamas need love, too...

Mamahood is quite funny, actually. Joe and I could tell many hilarious stories about our last five weeks together. Whoever said "don't cry over spilled milk" was clearly never a new mom. In our house, it was apple pie.