03.08.07
So much, so much
Steve has a friend who has a wife. And they got married last summer and she was lean and muscular and in control and the boss and I was fat and postpartum and could not for the life of me think of anything beyond my new child and the thought of being away from her physically hurt me not to mention made me feel a little panicked. And I thought about how she seemed to have it all together.
Well time passed and Leila grew and we got engaged and she got pregnant and now I am the one planning the wedding and she is the one waiting for a baby. And I try to get to know her and ask her questions about baby and about plans for baby and you know, life. But she seems so. . . organized, that sometimes I do not know what to say. At first I felt intimidated, because she has it all. And then I listened to what else she was saying besides the actual words.
I remembered back to Leila as a newborn, in those dark nights as I rocked the chair back and forth and back and forth while she sucked slowly on my breast. And there was so much doubt that I had then, self doubt and fear, worries that I did not love her as much as Steve did. But one thing I never questioned was my complete inability to be very far away from that child. There were some people who seemed to expect more from me, more than nursing my baby and sleeping, and that stressed me out. It worried me when people talked about bottles, and how your baby should have one. Or soothers, or juice, or babysitters. It was not that people said those things to me, because I knew they were not true, but I think I was worried that Steve would begin to believe them. If no one else, I knew I needed him in my corner.
Some of those nights, when I was just so exhausted that I wanted to cry, or when I watched this little person curl and uncurl her fingers, gurgle and sigh, sometimes sneeze or hiccup, those were the most magical nights of all. I did not get any help for the midnight feedings and I know that makes some people want to bottle feed, but for me, those nursing sessions were what guaranteed me the quiet moments to hold my child and drink her in.
It still stops my heart for a second sometimes, when I look at her and she takes my breath away with her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her expressions, watching her concentrate on something, laughing as she rolls and squirms her way around. Because not only is she part of me, but she is this amazing combination of Steve and I. In coming together in complete love and respect and commitment, we have managed, somehow, to be incomprehensibly blessed by this amazing little girl.
It has been a long week, half of it spent at the MILs. The visits there always leave me feeling fiercely protective of Steve and ready to lash out. I know I am a good mother but more importantly, I know the way I want to raise my daughter and spending time there often makes me feel like we are being critiqued and passive-aggressively undermined.
I guess what I was trying to say it that I know I am an emotional person (which admitting that in itself is a huge step forward from where I was four years ago, when I was the same type of person but could not bear to say it), and maybe those emotions are what keep me clinging to Steve and to some extent Leila, too tightly. But I also know what kind of mother, and person, I do not ever want to be. I have never been the person who has known my plan, I have never really had a plan. And so I have always been a little intimidated and jealous of the people who seemed to have it all together, who seemed to always know what they wanted, right down to their first wedding anniversary plans. But at least I know what I do not want, and at least I can finally admit to myself who I really am.
wunderwuman at 10:05 p.m.