The Real Deal on the Selflessness of Parenthood
I am privileged to be part of a wonderful group of young mamas that gathers weekly for fun, venting, socialization, yummy treats - the great list goes on and on. At a recent session, we were discussing prenatal vitamins and how it is recommended that breastfeeding moms continue to take them postpartum. One woman expressed feelings of guilt for not taking any but we assured her that it was not for her baby's sake, but for hers. "Oh," she laughed. "Well, that's okay then."
Such is the selflessness of mommyhood.
From the moment I saw a little blue cross show up on that slim piece of white plastic, I knew my life would be forever changed. Sure, I was still basically the same person - the same loud laugh, the same hot temper, the same passionate fervour for disability awareness. But all my priorities instantly changed; I was not living for myself. I was living for her. Every decision, from what I chose to eat to where we decided to live, was centred around the tiny little life growing inside me. This was my first taste at our new world order - the one in which our daughter's health, safety, and happiness superseded all else. She did not change our identities, our goals or our dreams. But she factored in all our decisions and discussions, and we easily and happily gave her priority over ourselves.
Looking back, I quite enjoyed my pregnancy, right up to the moment she surprised us at 34 weeks and 6 days and straight through the roller coaster birth and NICU stay. It is a short and very special time in a woman's life - a unique and awe-inspiring experience. By the time you reach the 3rd trimester, the whole world knows you're pregnant and treats you differently. Sometimes that means awkward, personal questions from complete strangers but more often it means people holding the door for you, offering warm smiles, squealing in excitement, or carrying your groceries. And then, you have the baby. Those close to you are obviously still in the know, but the rest of the world? They had no idea there was anything special about you because that big round belly is gone. It is a sudden and jarring switch from being that symbolic paragon of womanhood to being just a regular joe at the mall where no one gives you a second glance. Some people appreciate no longer garnering such attention, but for an extrovert such as I, it took some getting used to.
No one denies the hard work, dedication, and unconditional love moms and dads put into their children. But rookie mamas, please know: from the moment the child is born, you will be an extra in the movie that stars your little one. Many (not all, but many) very well-meaning people will skip right over you to gush over the baby. Conversations and questions will focus on this single albeit major aspect of your life; however, if there's anything ELSE going on in your life, you better be the one to bring it up because no one will ask. Again, I will stress that it is not that people don't care. They truly mean well. But getting caught up in the excitement on the new baby may leave you a little on the sidelines.
That being said, we were very ready to change our lifestyle and live for something greater than ourselves. Re-prioritizing our lives was a major but automatic change which we completed gladly. At my core, I am still the same person. I still love sports, hate rom-coms, and have an unhealthy obsession with mascara. It's just that now, Christmas commercials can make me teary and off-colour jokes seem less funny. When I dress up, it's to run an errand not a bar tab, and Saturday mornings in bed are for family cuddles not Tanqueray headaches.
My daughter is of paramount importance to me. I would give my life for her without hesitation and cannot imagine how it would be without that smile, that laugh, those chubby hands on my face. So yes, she has become the centre of our world and the focus of the world around us. But we wouldn't have it any other way.
Such is the selflessness of mommyhood.
From the moment I saw a little blue cross show up on that slim piece of white plastic, I knew my life would be forever changed. Sure, I was still basically the same person - the same loud laugh, the same hot temper, the same passionate fervour for disability awareness. But all my priorities instantly changed; I was not living for myself. I was living for her. Every decision, from what I chose to eat to where we decided to live, was centred around the tiny little life growing inside me. This was my first taste at our new world order - the one in which our daughter's health, safety, and happiness superseded all else. She did not change our identities, our goals or our dreams. But she factored in all our decisions and discussions, and we easily and happily gave her priority over ourselves.
Looking back, I quite enjoyed my pregnancy, right up to the moment she surprised us at 34 weeks and 6 days and straight through the roller coaster birth and NICU stay. It is a short and very special time in a woman's life - a unique and awe-inspiring experience. By the time you reach the 3rd trimester, the whole world knows you're pregnant and treats you differently. Sometimes that means awkward, personal questions from complete strangers but more often it means people holding the door for you, offering warm smiles, squealing in excitement, or carrying your groceries. And then, you have the baby. Those close to you are obviously still in the know, but the rest of the world? They had no idea there was anything special about you because that big round belly is gone. It is a sudden and jarring switch from being that symbolic paragon of womanhood to being just a regular joe at the mall where no one gives you a second glance. Some people appreciate no longer garnering such attention, but for an extrovert such as I, it took some getting used to.
No one denies the hard work, dedication, and unconditional love moms and dads put into their children. But rookie mamas, please know: from the moment the child is born, you will be an extra in the movie that stars your little one. Many (not all, but many) very well-meaning people will skip right over you to gush over the baby. Conversations and questions will focus on this single albeit major aspect of your life; however, if there's anything ELSE going on in your life, you better be the one to bring it up because no one will ask. Again, I will stress that it is not that people don't care. They truly mean well. But getting caught up in the excitement on the new baby may leave you a little on the sidelines.
That being said, we were very ready to change our lifestyle and live for something greater than ourselves. Re-prioritizing our lives was a major but automatic change which we completed gladly. At my core, I am still the same person. I still love sports, hate rom-coms, and have an unhealthy obsession with mascara. It's just that now, Christmas commercials can make me teary and off-colour jokes seem less funny. When I dress up, it's to run an errand not a bar tab, and Saturday mornings in bed are for family cuddles not Tanqueray headaches.
My daughter is of paramount importance to me. I would give my life for her without hesitation and cannot imagine how it would be without that smile, that laugh, those chubby hands on my face. So yes, she has become the centre of our world and the focus of the world around us. But we wouldn't have it any other way.
Comments
Post a Comment