Friday, November 6, 2009

The Problem With Being A Mother



The problem with being a mother
is that at first you are handed a baby. A little helpless human who wants nothing more than to wrap up inside your arms, or next to your chest and feel secure. In this state of co-dependency you feel helpful because the being is so tiny and you are so in love. All the while, the chemicals in your brain trick you into believing the entity in your arms will always be in your arms. An itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny package of perfection.

Then one cheerful morning,
you hear crying in the nursery. You go to pick up your little human all snugly in his handmade quilt safely tucked in the crib only to find a bigger model has replaced your littler model. A much bigger human--who doesn't need your constant barrage of hugs and cuddles, or worse, doesn't want them either. And you are bewildered how overnight (OVERNIGHT!) those minuscule feet grew so much in just a short space of existance. All the while your brain cannot register this disconcerting reconciliation.

How did that being become this? How?



Quickly you head to the photo
files containing the birth of that being. There is proof that the smaller version once existed. All mummified in receiving blankets with eyes of uncertainty that will certainly be calmed by your motherhood. Checking the newborn photos against the not-newborn baby standing before you, the bewilderment returns.

How was this being once that being?

I tell you, it has been the shock of my life. And don't tell me it gets worse.

I don't want to know how those feet get bigger.

Shhh.






*photos by Wendy of
Blue Lily who has documented my son's life so far