Euphoria. Faith. Excitement. Love. And all the other gooey feelings most people associate with motherhood were most certainly part of my early reactions to becoming a mom again. Another baby! A sweet child to embrace and cuddle and get to know. That was my entire focus. Let other people worry about the dangers of pregnancy for me, I was only thinking about the joy of motherhood.
And then it hit me at around 5 months--there is a birth at the end of pregnancy. Ever since then, I've been remembering more and more each day the realities of early motherhood. The sleepless nights, the painful recovery (not to mention birthing!) and all the disgusting things associated with birth and recovery that no one ever talks about, the difficulties of trying to nurse especially once I return to work, the increased demands on my limited capacities, etc. My wallet started to remind me, too, of the increase in expenses that are necessary. Perhaps my train of thought has been influenced by the lack of oxygen I'm getting from little Carson digging his tiny feet into my lungs. :-)
Then there's also the evaluation process that inevitably comes to women. The first time around I was wondering what kind of mother I would be. Now I wonder what kind of mother I've become, and I see in glaring detail the ways I could serve my Grant better. How could I ever take care of two? I hear often from people I respect that I am a good mother, but I always think to myself that they've never been there when I lose my patience or become frustrated by something, or when I burst into tears today because Grant wanted to "play, friends!" and I couldn't find any friends for him to play with. I was so distraught that I couldn't give him enough opportunities to socialize with peers because I work when all the playgroups happen.
And yet, tonight, when telling Jonathan about my trauma, Grant joined us in a group hug, patted my back, and we agreed that the three of us would be each other's friends. Then Grant taught me how to use the potty very proudly. Then he showed me the dance he and daddy made up to "Hammer Time." He bumped knuckles happily and then laid his pillow and blankie on the floor and put the cat down to bed. A few minutes later, he happily led the way "upsters" and climbed into my bed with me for a nice long perusal of a book about marine life and a lively game of peek-a-boo before daddy joined us for prayer. Grant brings so much joy and purpose and life to our home. He makes me a better person. He believes in me, and loves me. How could I ever NOT want to have more of that joy in my life? Carson will be a totally different little man, and getting to know him will be another adventure. Plus, I am bringing to life a friend for Grant.
So, when people ask me how I am feeling, my most common answer is "pregnant." Yes, I feel pregnant. And that entails all the physical discomforts and the awe of feeling a life moving around in there as well as all the emotions, trepidation, and joy associated with embracing motherhood, again. And I am embracing it, all of it, because that's what mothers do. With arms wide open...
