I have recently met a lovely lady at the Spa. She was all smiles, having a manicure and pedicure while her 3 weeks old baby sat quietly in the stroller, waiting for her. I said to myself “Wow! What a relaxed mindset and attitude for a mother, how does she do that??” and I felt like praising her for looking so strong and well put together. And then she told me it was her forth child, too. What??
When MY son was three weeks old I was literally counting each sunrise after loooong sleepless nights of hard work. Zombie Cristina barely found time to shower, let along having the manicure done!
And here we are, one year later, I still cannot believe I was capable of such a miracle and that I became a full-time mother. Who has knowledge of my past, knows what I am talking about.
The start was hard to me, so darn hard. It was so hard I really felt like punching people that were congratulating me! At that time, I thought to myself: ”Congratulations for the worst pains in my life? For a pee bag following me, just like a puppy, everywhere I went? For having my skin stinking of vomited sour milk? For my breasts leaking on anything, including the floors? For losing my body and not recognizing myself in the mirror? For overflowing with fears and anxiety, and fighting depression??”. At first, I just couldn’t understand any of the felicitations on having a baby.
And ladies, I think we should do a better job in telling the truth, describing more accurately what a woman is going through during her pregnancy, while giving birth and the months after. I cannot believe how many happy pictures are out there, all over the internet, with women in their worst times, working hard at looking pretty, all groomed up and jolly, deceiving people like me, making them think that fabulous unicorns sliding on cotton candy rainbows, really exist! Don’t get me wrong, I really hope some of you really feel the magic and live your happiest moments, while the other part of us go through the excruciating pains of a near death experience.
Then again, in my case, I had this (stupid) ambition of raising my child from the start with no help whatsoever, which made the entire experience of having a baby the hardest thing I have ever done.
I now appreciate more my mother and my grandmother, my mother-in-law and all the other women in the world. When I see them on the street walking or playing with their children, I understand their power and bravery - there is nothing they cannot do. I salute you!
The months have past, and the hard has diminished. The feelings of duty and responsibility got overshadowed by Love. And love grows, grows, grows…
While I can talk a lot about the bad and the hardship in general, when it comes to describing the affection and love I carry for my son, I feel the words are absolutely useless. There is nothing I can say, no poem or rhyme, no song or cry, that can make anybody understand the powerful and blessed by God connection that exists between a mother and her child. You just have to live it.
Today my little guy grabbed one of my nostrils with one hand, and with the other one, he pulled aggressively my hair, while he jumped up and down on my lap and bruised legs. He was drooling on my face, laughing and trying to sing “Five little monkeys jumping on the bed”. There, right there, I felt the luckiest and happiest.
My son is the Love of my life.
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