You can spot her a mile away...a new mother. Some call it a glow but mostly I think it's a glaze. Not to be cynical at all about motherhood. It's an amazing thing that's happened to me three times over. But there are distinctive things about every stage.
When you are pregnant, it's kind of like waiting for Christmas morning when you were a kid. It is so exciting and you have all these ideas about what it will be like for you, and then when it happens it's just like you thought it would be...wonderful, exhilarating, exciting, but also really, really tiring. And anxiety producing and second guessing yourself constantly about everything you're doing and did I mention tiring? You emerge from the first phase of motherhood when #1 is about 3 weeks old. Then you wake up after a few hour stretch and think, "I might be getting the hang of this. I feel a little like my old self. I might even take a shower today! And put on make up and dry my hair!"
And then your baby starts teething........
There are challenges to every stage of motherhood that's for sure. And sometimes I think you can equate it swimming, or drowning as it may sometimes feel. You may be cruising along just fine, and then something new or unexpected will happen with jr. and you feel dragged under again. Then you come to the surface, cruise along, and get dragged under again and again. And then finally #1 gets to be about 1. 5 or 2 and your cruising altitude remains steady for longer periods of time.
And then you get pregnant again.....
Baby #2 comes along. I remember saying to one of my friends when I was pregnant, "Okay, I may regret saying this, but I think I'm pretty good at this motherhood thing. Gabe's doing okay, I've got the hang of the eating and sleeping thing. Yeah, sometimes discipline is hard, but we're working on it. When baby #2 is born, how can it be that much harder? I mean, all they do at first any way is eat and sleep right?"
Wow. I mean it. Wow. Ben was born just weeks before Gabe turned two. And he was a relatively easy baby. And Gabe was NOT a relatively easy two year old. We called him Jekyll and Hyde. And really, no one can prepare you for how it is to have TWO (three counting your husband) people who need you in this world. And not just need you to feel good, but need you to SURVIVE. That's a heavy burden at times.
With me, wherever I went, baby just came with me. It was easier for me that way. I was nursing so I didn't want a call 20 min. after I left begging me to come home because the baby was crying. So, baby just came with me. EVERYWHERE. And that meant I was never alone. Well, with baby number 2, baby and toddler came with me. EVERYWHERE. And that meant I was really never alone. I swear, it felt like I was tethered. Not tied down, but tethered, because we didn't stay home. I haven't stayed home since I was 8. We just went everywhere together and all of a sudden I had two extra appendages named Gabe and Ben.
So baby #2 is born and you begin the cycle again. Three weeks and "Hey, I might be okay with all this." You cruise, you get dragged under. You cruise, you get dragged under. And so on and so forth.
We decided we should wait until baby #2 was three before having a third. And, well....we hadn't even reached a good cruising altitude before I took a good look at my calendar and said, "Oh my word. Really? Has it been 42 days? No!?" Well.....yep. Ben was 18 months old when baby #3 came along. Crazy how life throws you some curve balls. This was an awesome curve ball though and one I would never take back or regret. Lyndee Elizabeth's birth was, bar none, the happiest day of my life. I mean, a girl? An accidental girl? Yee Haw!
That doesn't mean that it wasn't overwhelming and still can be most of the time. It just means it's been another foray into the cycle of motherhood. We cruise, we get dragged under, we cruise, we get dragged under. You know the drill.
I think, now that Lyndee is almost 2, that we cruise most of the time. It's kind of like when you were a kid swimming under water to see if you could make it from one side of the pool to the other with one breath. You fill your lungs with air for the journey, you feel strong, you falter, your lungs start to burn, and just when you think you can't go any farther, you touch the side and burst to the surface. I feel that way now, not treading water or cruising any more, but finally breaking the surface. I can eat what I want, drink what I want, go to bed late if I want, get out of bed and give the kids cereal and go lay back down if I want, speak and be understood most of the time. Two of my three go to the bathroom alone, brush their teeth alone, eat by themselves, walk by themselves, use a pencil, drink out of big kid cups, and have meaningful conversation.
I see the mothers at preschool drop off time three days a week and I can pretty much pick out which stage they are in. There are those in their sweats, flip flops in the snow, t-shirts and an open coat, hair in a pony tail, glasses on, carrying the baby bucket and holding the hand of at least one toddler and/or preschooler. Yep, they think they're cruising because they got dressed today and are only a few minutes late. They don't know, and won't until later, that their cruising level is survival level, just below the surface.
There are also the mothers who look a little more well rested. They are dressed in matching clothes, and it may be something that's not just a t-shirt. No spit up stains or flip flops. The contacts made it in the eyes this morning and they are right on time. No baby bucket, just a baby on the hip and holding the hand of a preschooler. These fine women are cruising just above the surface.
And then there is where I almost am...make up, hair done, dressed well - some in work clothes, some not. They arrive early (sorry, that's not me yet) easily chatting with the teachers they've known for years since #1 came to school here. Their cars/vans are clean, their shoes are appropriate, they probably have just one or two preschoolers they are responsible for getting to the proper place. These women, yes, it is possible, have completely broken the surface and gotten out of the pool. They watch from the sides and cheer the rest of us on because they have been there. They know what it's like to look glazed and not quite be at your best. They are there to tell you that you are a good mom even though you often don't feel like it. They will be there to lend you a hand to help you out of the pool when it is time. And like you, they know that they have changed irrevocably since they first entered the water, and that they would do it again. Definitely, for sure, absolutely. Just not right now.
