I have a firm belief that
things happen for a reason. All things. We meet certain people because we are
supposed to. Every experience in life - whether good, bad, exciting or
devastating - contains a lesson to be learned, a reason certain key people were
involved, and is a stepping stone to moving forward on our own personal path.
My belief is that if we can wipe away the glitter and sparkles from the
wonderful experiences - and clean away the muck and darkness from the horrible
experiences - we will find that something positive is almost always waiting
there for us to discover it.
In my early 20s, I was
selfish and often told people I never wanted kids. I worked, I played, I dated,
I drank, I spent money frivolously, I thought about ME ME ME and I lived my
life purely in the moment. I never made decisions with any sense of permanency;
if I didn't like something or got bored with it (a car, a job, a boyfriend) - I
just changed it and shut the door behind me. Easy as that. Do what's best for
me... move on to the next thing (or person)... never look back. Done deal. I
convinced myself that my actions didn't affect other people; and that if they
did affect others, that was THEIR problem - not mine. I had control over my own
feelings; it was not my responsibility to control theirs.
Fast forward to late 20s
>>> I met "the one". Moved in together. Got engaged. Flipped
the switch from "Me" to "We". Life was awesome. We were
both making a lot of money, we had a house, we had more cars than we needed, we
went to expensive restaurants and spent long weekends at beach resorts and life
was fun and great and easy and amazing. Yeah!
Got married. Our *PLAN*
was to spend two years doing all of this cool fancy married people stuff,
travel a ton, save up money to buy a bigger house, and maybe plan for kids a
few years down the road. Sign on the dotted line. Agreed.
Three months after the
wedding? Positive pregnancy test. UH-OH.
Definitely not in my
*PLAN*. I immediately felt a sense of loss, as my "Me" selfishness
came back to haunt me and I thought about all of the things I would be missing
out on, all of the *PLANS* we had made to travel, and the house we wanted to
buy that now we would never be able to afford because, well, diapers and
daycare are expensive. We were supposed to be going to a wedding in Cancun next
summer! Damn it! I had barely been a WIFE for twelve weeks, and now I was
supposed to be a MOM? I had barely gotten used to calling him my
"husband", how was I supposed to also add "son" or
"daughter" to that. Too much. I was overloaded. This was not what we
had *PLANNED*.
This is the time I
suffered my very first panic episode. And then a second one. And then they
happened weekly, and then sometimes several in a day. I couldn't figure out
what triggered the episodes. Sometimes I would be sitting at work. Sometimes I
would be watching TV, or other times I would be driving - those were the
scariest. But every time, I had to talk myself out of them. I literally had to
hear myself say the words out loud: "Breathe. Clear your head. Let go.
It's ok. Calm down. Relax. It's just your body responding to anxiety." I
learned to live with the episodes, as if they were an extension of my body.
Hated them, but accepted them as a part of me. Never knew when they would
strike, but knew in the back of my mind that they could happen at any given
moment. I was filled with anxiety - always. Every moment of the day, and
especially in social situations (I'm already an extremely socially awkward
person as it is, so this did not help my social weirdness.)
On the outside, the
pregnancy looked like any other. I sent the cute announcement, I registered at
Babies R Us, I emailed the cheesy pregnancy updates to our families. Had the
baby shower, bought the crib, decorated the nursery - did it all. Everything by
the book. And yes, it was all fun and cute and I was thankful for the support
and excitement of family and friends... yet on the inside? Fear. Nervousness.
Depression. Anxiety. Dread of losing my identity in this un-invited, rude baby
that I had not *PLANNED* for yet nor did I feel that I was ready for. I didn't
have the time for this, I didn't have the money for this, I didn't have the
patience. I had places to go and big things I wanted to do. It wasn't in my
nature to "just go with the flow" and let things play out, I was used
to having control. I was used to waving my magic wand of selfishness and
bringing things/people into my life when I wanted them there, and then getting
rid of them when I was finished with them. That was my MO. Plain and simple,
black and white.
My son was born. And this
is supposed to be the part where I say "And then everything changed the
second I saw his face! The bluebirds sang and the unicorns flew over the
rainbows and everything was perfect! Hooray!"
Unfortunately, that is
not what happened - at least not immediately. Yes of course I felt love for my
son, because he was a product of my marriage and love for my husband. I won't
deny that. But my mind was still spinning with thoughts of how life as I knew
it was over, I had lost my freedom, my money, my independence, my
self-identity. I felt resentment. I was no longer ME, I was now B's wife
(barely) and D's mom. I held him, I fed him, I bathed him, I kissed him.
I took care of him. I felt love for him. But every single day I would wake up
and say "Ok, today will be the day that I will feel a CONNECTION to this
baby." And then every night I would go to bed telling myself "Well,
it didn't happen today. It will happen tomorrow." This went on for weeks.
My *PLAN* was not working. This did not help the anxiety episodes.
One day I was home alone
with him while my husband was at work. I don't remember the day of the week but
(somehow) the laundry was done, dishes were clean, beds were made, and my son
was between feedings and diaper changes, so he was happy as a clam. I turned
some music on to get some cleaning done. And then suddenly something stopped me
and told me to pick him up. Literally stopped me and told me to just pick him
up. NOW. I picked him up and began swaying and dancing while holding him. And
before I could explain it - I guess because I had not *PLANNED* it - he smiled.
He looked at me straight in the eyes and smiled a real smile, not a gas-induced
smile or a muscle twitch. He was smiling at ME. The more I swayed, the more he
smiled. If I stopped, he stopped. If I started, he smiled again. He would not
unlock his gaze, and I didn't dare unlock mine. I can not put into words what
happened at that moment, and I didn't know it at the time, but that was the
turning point. That was it, that was the unicorn jumping over the rainbow! He
connected with me and I connected with him and I realized that THIS was what
was supposed to be happening at that very moment, THIS may not have been my
*PLAN* but this was the way it was supposed to happen and this was the exact
moment when it was supposed to play out.
It was no longer just
about ME and my selfish needs and wants. I had this little person who depended
on me for everything - for food, for care, for unconditional love - and instead
of being annoyed that I was missing out on a fun night out with friends or the
wedding in Cancun, I finally - for the first time - felt that I was exactly
where I was supposed to be, doing the thing that I was supposed to be doing at
that very moment. I actually WANTED to give him my everything, and as these
feelings grew they began chipping away at the fears and resentment and anxiety.
And all of those other
things I was so worried about? They all still happened, just not on the
timeline that I had *PLANNED* for myself. We still bought a new house, we have
taken vacations through the years, we have made time for friends and family. We
didn't miss out on anything that we had *PLANNED* for, they just all happened
when they were SUPPOSED to. I gave up needing control. And that's ok. I am
exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm am supposed to be doing. I
would never go back and change any of it. The connection with him gave me such
a sense of peace that I felt empowered to take on anything.
My son is 7 now. We had a
few bumpy toddler years, as he is very strong-willed and sometimes
self-centered (surprise, surprise!) so I always joke that I didn't like him
much between the years of 2-4. Parenting is HARD! I will not lie about that.
It is stressful and draining and just when you think you've made the right
decision, you realize you have no idea if that was the right thing to do. There
will be sleepless nights, there will be power struggles, there will be days
when you are just plain exhausted and want to put him to bed at 6 PM (and you
will, and then you will have a glass of wine and re-charge, and then at 9 PM
you will miss him and wish that you could wake him up again to play! But you
won't, because there is more wine to drink. Ha!) But there are just so many
amazing moments, especially when you step back and realize that these tiny
humans are such amazing little packages...
My son is hilarious and makes
up riddles on his own (today's was "What is a flamingo's favorite fruit?
FlaMANGO!"). He is smart - top reader in his class for the second year -
yeah! He is compassionate, he questions everything, he has a love of dinosaurs
and superheroes and anything that has to do with any branch of science - he
even subscribes to the National Geographic Kids magazine. He feels for people -
even strangers - when they are hurt; he told me the other day he felt sorry for
a first grader he doesn't even know, because she broke her leg and is in a
wheelchair, and he's going to ask her next week if he can help push her around.
He takes money out of his pocket and gives it to street performers on his own.
He gets sarcasm and dishes it out well. He strives to do his best and beams
with joy when we tell him we are proud of him.
I am not saying all of
this to brag about how wonderful my son is, oh trust me, we butt heads DAILY,
he can be a major A-hole, we argue and fight and yell and yes, we even go to
bed angry sometimes (even after saying we are sorry). I'm saying all of these
things because after the daily routine muck clears away, after the tenth
"pick up your socks!" and the homework tears and the skinned knees
and the time-outs - you will find things about your son that are unique to him
and that make you realize he is the one that was created just for you.
JUST FOR YOU
We have a connection that
I can not put into words, we can look across the room at each other and know
what the other is thinking. Several people have posted this here, and I agree
that there is a very special connection between a boy and his mother. I never
quite understood it until a few years ago. And when he smiles at me, even with
missing teeth and all (in typical 7 year old fashion), there is no one else in
the room at that moment. It takes me back to that day when he smiled at me for
the very first time in that living room. The unicorn jumps over the rainbow
every time. We connected that day, we have been connected since, and we will be
connected forever.
(Side note: I also have a
daughter who just turned 3 last week. Because she is fully in the "I'm not
really sure I like her very much right now" stage of life, I will leave
her out of this post because I mainly wanted to share my struggles with feeling
nervous and scared about having my first. Don't get me wrong, I love my
daughter to the moon and back.
LR
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