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Bumps and Bruises in Mothering

By Anonymous

Yesterday, when exiting my illegally parked car to pick Landon up from Maya'a apartment, I admired the softly falling snow and noticed that it was starting to hide the sheet of ice covering the sidewalk. I made a mental note to be extra careful while walking with Landon because that path was going to be very slippery when I came back out

I went upstairs and was greeted with big smiles from Landon, wrangled him into his puffy coat, carried him out the revolving door, and immediately slipped on the ice. I caught my balance twice before falling hard to the ground. Seven months ago I would have thrown out my arms to soften my fall. Yesterday, I held Landon to my chest the whole way down. My throbbing right hip and elbow were probably not so pleased with my change from self-interested individual to self-sacrificing mom. Landon was fine, though startled and pissed about the snow on his pants; I am fine, though pretty badly bruised along my right side.

A little while ago Someone Being Me wrote about a mother's love for her baby even before he is born. You can read my less than eloquent comment there, but suffice it to say, I didn't have the feelings she describes. Landon's pregnancy was planned and his birth was eagerly anticipated, but contrary to what I'd heard from others, I felt almost no connection to him as a baby until after he arrived. And even once he was here, it took a while for me to really feel like I was a mom- like I was his mom- and that he was my son. Of course I knew he was my son in the biological sense, but the words "son" and "daughter" mean so much more and that extra meaning took a little longer to develop. I remember crying at lunch with JP while Landon was in the NICU because he was so full of love for his son and I felt like I was outside the loop- I knew him so well when he was inside of me, but I didn't know that baby in the isolette at all. I felt like a defective mother. I loved him, but not like I was sure I was supposed to.

But then slowly, over the days spent sitting by Landon's side in the NICU willing him to breathe normally, during the countless hours trying to feed him through the acid reflux pain, over the miles I walked in circles around our apartment calming his cries from colic, and through the delight I felt at his every movement, sound, and blink of his eyes, he became my son in every way that word is supposed to mean. I'm not sure when the transformation was complete (and I'm not sure it ever is, this morning when he gave me a giant smile while spitting out his pears I felt absolutely certain I could not possibly love him more- until I did, five minutes later when he pumped his arms in excitement as I made quacking noises), but I remember very clearly a morning in September when I realized that he felt like mine- and that I wasn't sure when it had happened.

And yesterday, when I was lying on the ice, holding a crying Landon with snow on his pants, but no bruises, one of my first thoughts was "I acted like a mom" and that made me feel really good, throbbing elbow, hip and all.

Full post as published by Lag Liv on February 12, 2008 (boomark / email).