Mother's Day: A listicle to myself, my daughter and my mother
I remember loving Mother’s Day as a child. I couldn’t wait to unload all of those Mother’s Day crafts laden with tissue paper, beads, clay pots and flowers from school. I always hid them under my bed until Sunday to surprise my Mama.
As I got older and moved away, some years I remembered to send a card, but I always called. Every once in a while I would send a gift. I never really understood Mother’s Day until this year. It’s my first one.
It started with me sleeping in. I was still sleeping at 7:52 am (!) when I heard smashing glass in the kitchen. I heard it in my sleep and JUMPED out of bed and went running into the other room. All I could think of was let me hold baby so my husband can clean up whatever cracked. I found her calmly squatting nearby watching intently while my husband cleaned up the pieces. It turns out, our 11 month old had reached into the recycling while my husband was making her breakfast. She got a glass olive oil bottle and then proceeded to drop it on the ground and smash it to pieces. Oops. What a relaxing way to wake up.
This incident highlights a few things for me: Our daughter’s curiosity, independence, listening skills (she stayed and watched from afar until I came into the room), strength. And maybe our less than stellar job of babyproofing the kitchen. (side note: babyproofing is really hard!)
One thing is for sure, my life will never be the same after having a kid. Here are some of my reflections, in letter-list form.
It’s the little things that make each day a joy with this little one. Even when there days that are tough, it’s possible to have tiny joyful moments each day. In the end, those are the ones I remember when the day is done.
To my immediately post partum self knowing what I know now:
This phase won’t last forever. You will sleep again.
You’re super smart for pretending to be using the toilet, but taking a 5 minute break to be on your phone alone in the bathroom.
Trust your gut. Doctors, lactation consultants, therapists - they don’t know everything. If you think something is wrong, or doesn’t feel good, you are probably right.
Sometimes babies projectile vomit and it doesn’t mean they’re sick. Who knew?
Be patient with your partner. He is trying to take care of a baby and his post partum partner and himself (barely).
But also, be patient with yourself. This is allowed to be hard. You don’t have to push through and be so tough like you always have for your whole life.
Do your best. Wait, you are doing your best! Every day is different with a newborn and every little thing that happens seems so big in the whole scheme of a day. As time passes, these incidents won’t feel so big. But you won’t understand this in the moment. Feel what you need to feel. This is hard!
Babies are a mystery.
Each phase doesn’t last that long, in retrospect. But while you’re in it, it can be awful. Let it feel awful, but know that it’s going to end.
Ask for help. Again and again. Ask for what you need. Know that you might not get it.
It takes a village: build yours. Go to new mom groups, text your friends, go to therapy (virtual therapy is a lifesaver for those first few months when leaving the house feels like a mission) read blog posts - whatever you need to do to feel supported.
Breastfeeding isn’t supposed to be *this* hard. You’re right, something is wrong. Don’t believe the professionals who tell you you’re “overreacting” and that you shouldn’t “make a problem where there isn’t one.” There IS a problem.
Take the temperature rectally. It’s easier than you think!
You can read every book, but all of that advice and research should go out the window if it doesn’t feel right. If it feels right to hold your baby and let her sleep in your arms, do it. Ignore the doctor that’s pushing you to make her sleep in the bassinet alone as much as possible. If it doesn’t feel right, it’s not right for you.
No need to follow every post, idea and suggestion on pinterest, instagram or facebook! Even though you have a lot of skills as a pediatric OT, you don’t have to use them all on your daughter. Chill.
Your “to do list” will never be at zero again. Ever. Get used to it.
To my daughter:
You make me a better person. I’ve learned so much since I met you. How to let go of plans and expectations. How to refine my ability to be in the moment and appreciate the little things. How to be fashionably late to everything, instead of always early. How to compartmentalize so that I can function and take care of you. How important sleep is. And how to cook chicken at home. I was always afraid of cooking chicken at home, until I had to feed you solids.
You’ve helped me take my ability to be patient to a whole new level. My ability to apologize when I’m wrong has improved as well. Thank you for being my teacher.
The list of things I love about you will continue to grow, but here are a few of my favorites:
I love that you are curious; from the smallest speck on the floor to the wind blowing tall grass, to that little stick you see on the sidewalk.
I love that you are friendly toward animals and people; you love nature and being outside.
I love that your first experience swimming left you panting with excitement like you were remembering swimming inside me for 9 months.
I love that you’ve bonded with you dad so much during our time in quarantine. Watching your bond with him grow makes me so happy.
I love how you get a huge smile and walk over to me every morning when I wake up; you drop everything you’re doing to hug me! Let’s always hug each other tightly.
I love how you cling on to me so tight when you’re scared of something.
I love how you gently kiss me on the nose with a wide open mouth and the tip of your tongue.
I love how you cuddle on me for 4-17 seconds. Yes I count, because I don’t want it to end! But you’re so wiggly and active that it always ends too soon.
I love how you have a sarcastic teenager laugh at 11 months old.
I love how your personality in utero matches your active, lively personality on the outside.
I love how you’ve pushed me to delete my mom guilt (most of the time); you appreciate everything I do and need nothing more than the basics.
I love that I see pieces of your dad and me in you, but that you are completely your own person.
I love how you are teaching me new things about life and myself every single day, without even knowing it.
I love how you ask for more liver, egg yolks, avocado and bone broth. I love how you love vegetables. And chicken!
I love how when you see cars driving by you get really excited and make muscles with your arms in the air
I love how you hear music in everything: water running, laundry spinning, cars driving by; and how you dance to all of this music with your whole body
I love how you read books with gusto, independently and quietly. It’s hard for me to even take a moment to breathe and relax when you do this, because I cannot stop staring at how amazingly focused interested you are
I love when you are happy. And sad. And angry. And frustrated. I love all of your emotions.
I love how when I’m on my phone (probably buying you something on Amazon or researching the latest spoons for you to self feed!) you walk over to me and say “heyyyyyy” “hiiiii!” As a reminder for me to be in the moment with you.
I love how sometimes you just need your mama.
I love that I am your mama.
To my mother:
Dear Mom,
Wow. This is so hard. And amazing. I appreciate you even more now that I am a parent. Once you have a child, your life is never the same for better or for worse. I appreciate that everything you’ve done, you always tried your best to do what was right for me. Thank you for sacrificing your
life
sleep
needs
free time
career
body
sanity
to make me who I am today. I wouldn’t be the mother I am without you.
And sorry for that time when I was a teenager and I used the F word and kicked a hole in my bedroom door.
I was told I would not be able to have children. This child is the greatest, sometimes most annoying, gift of my life. I’ve had some of my best and hardest moments ever in the last 11 months.
I’m doing an amazing job. Happy Mother’s Day to me.
Noticing & inspecting a tiny flower on our first Mother’s Day 2020.