The Rookie Mama

Today was not a good day.  The sun was shining, koala and I had no big plans, and still it was not a good day. Without anything overtly terrible happening, it was   still   not a good day. The tears were flowing, the despair was real, and the exhaustion enveloped it all. These days do come, and they can happen without warning. They can leave without a trace or linger for awhile, but they come for all of us. And that's okay. Ride the wave, embrace the tears, and know that every rookie parent has experienced the same, and will do so again. A few days back, the littles and I had an amazing day. All meals were fresh and homemade, adorable arts were crafted, and laundry was done and put away. Not only was the sink empty but so was the dishwasher. The kiddos were clean and happy, and so was I. Now fast forward to today when nothing productive got accomplished, and my PB&J for lunch barely one-upped the takeout pizza for dinner. The fruit and veggies that usually ...

I know my parents love me.  I see it frequently and deeply, in what they say to me and about me, in the many things they do for me and my family. Their love is unconditional. Truly. But just recently, I had a realization about another facet of their love. It was a beautiful moment, a humbling one, but it had a bittersweet quality as well because it reminded me of how the clock ticks on, no matter how badly you want it to pause or go back. It started simply enough - with me and little koala playing on the bed as we do most days. We looked at books and toys, cuddled, and practiced rolling, reaching, and sitting. In these quiet moments, I am often overwhelmed with love for my kids, and go in for as many kisses and snuggles as they will tolerate. I reflected both on how little he is and how much he has learned in the last few weeks. And as I cradled the fine curve of his skull in my hand and listened to him babble away, I didn't see me. I saw my mom. When I touch the faces of my ...

Before her, my life was pretty good. I was happy, well-adjusted, in a great marriage, living in a gorgeous condo, and enjoying spontaneous date nights and getaways.  Since her, my good life has become greater - in ways I could not understand before. My daughter has made my life brighter, more exciting, more challenging and infinitely more meaningful. Because of her, our great marriage is stronger, having been through the challenges of brand new parenthood. We see each other in totally different lights - not just as husband or wife, but as dad and mom, and it's a new view full of beautiful surprises. I gaze around our snazzy condo, and the setting sun catches on little areas of kiddie-dom that have not taken over so much as they have taken root - and grown within: a farm-themed Exersaucer in the living room, a pink scooter beside the couch, brightly-coloured boxes of books and toys scattered throughout the house. Dinner out now includes a high chair and sippy cup (although Mom...

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 t...

I wake to the sound of her babbling. No distress, no anxiety, certainly no crying. Just her - talking to herself or perhaps to the animals hanging on her mobile. This is how she greets every morning. I listen for awhile, trying to shake the sleep from my own head. I wonder at the adorable sounds coming from the crib, and how just a few weeks ago she was not able to control her voice this way. Now there are giggles, happy shrieks, and frustrated grumblings. Just a few months in, and she is communicating with us. I peek over the side of the crib and say good morning; she turns to look at me and a huge smile stretches across her tiny face. She giggles and rolls side-to-side as I reach down to pick her up. I hold her against me and she nestles into my shoulder. She pulls her head back to look at me and we smile at each other. Recognition. She cannot yet call me "mama" nor can she tell me she loves me. But that smile, every morning without fail, tells me she knows who I am...