Oh, you must be in heaven! (the early days)

In the very early days of my mama career, I took E to the doctor by myself for the first time. After a few weeks of incredibly painful and unsuccessful breastfeeding, my lactation consultant had recommended I go to the pediatrician to see if E was tongue tied (he wasn't, but that's another story). So, I gathered up the 20 pounds of baby equipment I was carrying around those days and drove my little guy to the doctor (going 35mph and eying every car as a potential enemy, naturally). When I finally got there, they called my name and I had to figure out how to wrangle the aforementioned 20 lbs of stuff and a cranky baby into the exam room without losing it. We were a mess.

In the midst of all this, I saw a woman that I had worked with when I taught second grade. She is really the sweetest woman, so of course she came over and said how good I looked, how cute E was, etc. As we said goodbye, she concluded with, "(happy sigh)- oh you must just be in heaven!"

A sleepy Mr. E at 2 weeks old

Huh? Heaven? Was that where I'm supposed to be? While I quickly faked an appropriately motherly response, I couldn't help but think that if I was supposed to be in heaven then I must be doing something very wrong. There were some heavenly moments for sure (during most of which E was sleeping, thank you very much). But the majority of my days were filled with screaming, poop and breastfeeding horrors instead of ethereal moments of peace and joy.  Doubt creeped in- were all the other new moms hanging out together in baby heaven? How come nobody invited me?

My friend's well-intentioned comment definitely stuck with me. First, I wondered if E was being less than cherubic because I was making too many mistakes on the job. Then I started wondering if the problem wasn't in my job performance, but in my mama composition. This was much scarier. I worried that I could be missing some crucial ingredient moms had that allowed them to see screaming babies and sleepless nights as heavenly experiences.

As the days went by and E and I learned more about each other, I began to understand the real meaning of my friend's words. My friend is a mom herself, so I'm pretty sure she was not under the delusion that E and I were sitting at home having a nonstop love fest of lullabies, cuddles and serenity. She knew what I was going through was very challenging, but at the time my friend had something that I didn't- perspective. Her girls are older now, so she had already seen firsthand that the doubt, pain and emotions of the early days were completely worth it.

So what has changed that has helped me understand what she meant? Well, E is cuter now and cries exponentially less, which makes the peace and happiness part easier, but I don't think that's it. The big change has come as E's unique, crazy personality has really started to shine through in the past few months. I can kind of see the bigger picture of where he's headed, and this makes it easier for me to put the inevitable low points in perspective. I feel excited when E and I use what we've learned about each other to achieve success where we've previously failed (completing a diaper change without pooping on the wall? Go us!). As I watch him skillfully play his tambourine in music class (or drool on it- same thing), I feel really happy and content (even if he later screams when we have to sing "bye bye" to said tambourine).

I'm also starting to trust myself more. I think I have finally accepted that I can be a good, loving mom while simultaneously counting down the minutes to naptime when E is driving me nuts or thinking, "If I have to read Goodnight Moon one more time, I'm going to impale myself on Sophie the Giraffe." I'm trying not to punish myself for having these thoughts because I'm starting to see that being real about my feelings and actually dealing with them is a really important part of my parenting process. And someday E will need to learn the same lesson, so I like to think I'm just doing my homework here.


Last week, I had to take E to the doctor (he has his first official cold- poor E!). Guess who I saw when we were leaving? The same friend who told me I "must be in heaven" 8 months ago when I felt like I was about to fall apart. Interestingly, she made this comment again and this time I responded, "Yeah, I am." I didn't have to fake the response or even think about it, really. The fun and crazy thought that makes this hard work all worth it is that one day E will be all grown up and (sniff) not even need me all because of what I'm doing right now.

So, must I be in heaven? Yup, I guess I must :).