inspired
to journal
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A Hiccup
of Fear Sitting next to my daughter
as she balances herself in her highchair, I watch her open her mouth to
eat her peas and carrots. It reminds me of a young bird waiting in anticipation
for his mother to regurgitate the worm from her mouth as he shakes nervously
with his mouth wide open. I have been lucky enough to witness my daughter's
accomplishments as she grows. She has learned to eat, roll, squeal, reach
and smile; yet there is still so much for me to see. Her first time crawling,
sitting, walking, talking, and best of all her first time hugging me to
tell me she loves me. I must say having this chance to watch her learn
is one of my biggest rewards for deciding to stay home and be a full time
mother. In the beginning I didn't
see this day coming. Not consciously. Having her was a complete surprise
to my maturity. It isn't that I didn't want her. I think subconsciously
I always have, but to have her now, before my career, just out of college,
a newlywed of all things; I wasn't sure I was ready for her or to put
my life on hold. I wasn't sure I was good enough to fulfill my role as
a mother. What should happen if I forget to teach her something, or if
I mislead her with some information? Those thoughts were my
first hiccups of fear in the long road of motherhood. Little did I know
that these were small things compared to what lie ahead?
During pregnancy, the fear of miscarriage, disease, weight gain,
inadequacy as a wife and mother plagued me. At birth the fear of pain,
cesarean, and my baby's health overwhelmed me. When we brought her home
from the hospital, the fear of dropping her, bumping her head, leaving
her alone in the crib, kept me on my toes, awake at night.
There were those other fears too. Those moments when I feared I
could no longer breastfeed because it hurt too much and took so much out
of me. The moments when I feared I was a bad mother because I resented
my daughter and my husband for taking away my life, my time, my sleep,
my space. The moment when I realized I was no longer whom I use to be,
my body, my mind, my soul belonged to my daughter. Then today, I watch her eat, smile and squeal. I know I'm a good mother. I have to be. Look at her! She's healthy! Beautiful! She doesn't need to tell me she loves me. I know she does. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me. So I'll take one day at a time. I'll confront the bad things as they come. Bad things might, in fact will happen, but I don't want to miss out on her good days worrying about the bad ones. She is worth too much to waist her time on my fears. * Pinch of warmth Tornado of blame Eyelash of sympathy Foot of chaos Can of
luck * |
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