My Unexpected Journey Into Motherhood

Here's my homework assignment for English Composition 101 for this week. Due to this crazy snow storm classes were cancelled this week, but this assignment is still due, via email, at midnight tonight. The assignment was to write a 3-5 page paper on "a trip to unfamilar territory".

I really just feel like I might need to tweak the conclusion, skip on down if you have a minute. Read the last paragraph and tell me what you think.

I was twenty years old when I found out I was pregnant with my first child. It was the year two thousand and eight. I knew about waiting tables for a living. I knew that wide-leg pants were back in style, and bangs were not. I knew about being in love for the whopping second time in my life. And I knew about losing sleep because I was unable to put down a great book. I knew nothing about having and caring for another human life. Shocked and terrified didn’t even begin to describe how I felt the moment the doctor announced the news. In the next few years I would learn a lot about becoming a mother, and being responsible for another person.

            The ten months of pregnancy went by fairly quickly, and like many women I read a lot about what to expect during the birth of my child. I could tell someone all about the inability to sleep during the third trimester, how important kegal exercises are, and when the doctor should be called in any given situation. I did not, however, read any books on what to do once the baby arrives and it’s time to actually be a mom.

            As I held my baby girl for the first time on Thanksgiving Day in November I felt a dizzying whirlwind of emotions come over me. Firstly, I was full to bursting with love. I looked into those gorgeous little eyes staring up at me and I thought my heart would surely be unable to contain all the love pouring out of it. I was like a person who had never seen or heard of water, suddenly standing underneath Niagara Falls. I thought I’d drown. The sweet child in my arms brought tears to my eyes and made me question every part of my being. I felt love, and I felt terrified.

What if I’m not a good mother? What if she gets sick? What if I drop her? What if that weird soft spot on her head gets bumped? Would she have brain damage? Would she survive? What if she grows up and hates me? I was barraged with questions by that part of myself so full of doubt and fear. I was excited though, as well, so excited to take my newborn baby home.

Everything was new those first few months. Audrey, my new beautiful perfect daughter, got her first cold and I nearly had a breakdown. “What does she mean Audrey doesn’t need medication? What if it isn’t just a cold? What are we supposed to do, just let her suffer?” I nearly screamed at my husband, referring to our child’s pediatrician’s advice. Every “ouchie” and every sickness brought a new level of worrying on my part. Thankfully, my husband was wonderful at calming me down and helping me to think things out rationally. He’d gently rub my back and point out the facts about a cold and the various things we were doing to help ease her discomfort. He was always quick to point out that those things were working, and that she was happy and comfortable too. Eventually I didn’t have meltdowns every time I heard Audrey sneeze, or cry, or fall.

If I worried overmuch about illnesses though, my husband worried about Audrey while she slept. I remember how hard we worked at getting her on a good sleep schedule. Neither one of us really knew what we were doing, so we just followed advice of relatives and parenting books. We’d sit outside the bedroom door, while Audrey cried herself to sleep, wondering when it would end. Hours later when she was finally asleep my husband would insist on tip-toeing in to check on her. He’d reach down and touch her, “-to make sure she’s still breathing,” he’d tell me. I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t afraid he’d wake her up and we’d go through the whole crying routine again.

There was always much laughter around meal times, from Audrey that is. I spent a lot of time being exasperated or confused. Generally the least liked foods ended up on the floor, on the high chair, on Audrey’s face, in her hair, or sometimes even in my hair. I remember being so eager to get clean because of the various baby food in my hair, or spit up on my clothes. As soon as my husband got home from work I’d put him on baby duty and rush to the bathroom to get a nice fifteen or twenty minutes to myself in the shower. Some days I’d set Audrey up in her little swing right outside the bathroom door while I showered, because I just couldn’t wait. When vegetables were the offered food anywhere was acceptable to Audrey, other than in her mouth. Her favorite foods couldn’t get to her mouth fast enough, however. She was as impatient as a child waiting for chocolate chip cookies to cool after they had been baked in the oven. Sometimes I wondered if she’d just pick up the jar of applesauce and drink it like milk if given the chance.

I was often confused because knowing when to introduce different foods to a child is like trying to figure out what a baby is telling the parent by the sound of his cry. Introduce rice cereal at four months. Introduce pureed fruits and vegetables at five or six months. Slowly introduce small bits of soft foods such as noodles, crackers, or cooked carrots. Do not give a child under the age of one honey or peanut butter! I remember reading that when my child is one-year old I should try to fit all the colors of the rainbow into her daily diet. I was overwhelmed with all the do’s and don’ts that different sources offered. “Was their goal to confuse the reader?” I wondered. I could just picture the authors getting together to laugh and joke about new parents’ reactions to certain parts of their book.

The books did help, however, but I think advice from relatives and friends helped the most. I learned that a parent has to be able to laugh at themselves every now and again, and above all else they should just constantly show their child love and attention. During those first couple of years raising a child felt more like a guessing game. There were always questions needing to be answered, always worries in my mind vying for my attention. It was a roller coaster ride of insecurity, fun, laughter, and a lot of love. I wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. It turned out that becoming a mother, even though I didn’t know it that day the doctor gave me the news, was the biggest blessing of my life.