First of all, I want to say thank you to everyone who made a kind comment on Tuesday’s post. I really appreciate those of you who took the time to read about a woman who was…is…very important to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
The first time my husband went to work after our son was born, I was terrified. I was alone with my son for the first time ever. Sleep deprived and full of rampaging hormones, I didn’t know if I could handle this parenting thing all on my own.
And despite knowing that this exact moment was something I’d been planning for years, I felt that instead of treasuring our time alone, I was going to hold him at arms length and stare at him while he screamed and cried with accusations and disappointment in his brand new eyes.
When my husband managed to pull himself away and shut the door behind him, I looked at Gibson and waited for him to turn into the inconsolable baby I just knew he would be the moment we were alone. But he didn’t. He continued sleeping. I continued staring. He was perfect and beautiful, the way I’d always imagined.
So when he did cry later, I didn’t lose my composure. I managed. Just as I’m sure the billions of mothers before me have. Since that first day alone, I feel I have shushed and rocked and fed and burped and changed diapers a billion times. And as long as I’m doing that, I’m not failing.
Today, I have managed to shower and dress, bathe my child and dress him, feed myself three square meals and take a walk at the park in the sunshine. Perks that are unnecessary but make me want to punch the air in exuberance: I managed to wash a load of blankets and baby clothes AND a load of dirty diapers.
Nope, the carpet is not vacuumed. I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to wash the bed sheets. I need a hair cut and eyebrow waxing like you wouldn’t believe. My finger nails are in dire need of attention, and I haven’t even begun to find out if any of my pre-pregnancy clothes fit yet.
But none of that matters. Because my son is alive and thriving. And the sun came out today. And dammit, my priorities about what’s important to fit into a day have changed. Permanently. For the better, I think.