At dear friends‘ wedding reception, I attempted to pretend that I am just talkative gal with her silent steady- handed fella.... but at last, after enjoying a few adult beverages and trying out the dance floor, I just wanted to cuddle my cutie (my baby, not my babe) by 9:00pm. Thus this pretense of before-baby-me shattered into puzzles pieces of an after- baby-me. So in honor of my husband and his first Father’s day, I start to piece back together this new image of momma me.
Dear Hubby,
Thank you for being such an amazing father! The way you stick out your tongue, hold him in the air over your head, and support his back with your knees just to make our little man smile absolutely deepens my love for you. I am beyond lucky that you help with bath time, feeding time and change diapers time (not to mention most of the cooking). There is no one I’d rather be doing this parenting thing with!
Now, the disconnect in our new roles as parents. You have always been the yang to my yin, the listener to my talker, the saver to my spender, and the reasoner to my feeler. But now, we face even greater disparency: you as the fatherhood to my motherhood. The day our son came out of me, you literally cut the umbilical cord connecting us but the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual cord remained. These are the puzzling unseen pieces in my momma brain.
THE PHYSICAL:
You witnessed the miraculous yet gruesome reality of our son bursting through my lady parts to know that my body has been affected. Heck, you watched my belly grow (and at the end my ankles, neck, feet, well everything) during pregancy. You see the stretch marks that frame my breasts, stomach and thighs; the lingering baby-fat belly. However, my super-in-tune-to-every-peep-and-wiggle-of-our-baby-hearing, and my frequent hunger after breastfeeding you cannot feel. The strangely sweet relief of our son’s suckles on my breast, but not when he claws in frustration at the slowing flow, you will never experience. Even pre-baby activities such as walking (heavy breasts) and making love (tightly sewn vulva), feels foreign. You look only slightly worn since our wedding day, while I am no longer a slender bride. My body is not my own but a home to a life, a fact I sometimes wrestle with like my way too tight pre-pregnancy-and-birth pants.
THE MENTAL:
Babe, our baby takes over my thoughts. I constantly think about how to prepare and improve our household like a girlscout determined to earn patches to cover up her entire sash. I struggle to sit down, even when our son naps. I stay constantly productivd by washing laundry, cleaning the house, and decluttering our spaces (especially when our little dude cries excessively). I feed my worrisome thoughts with parent articles daily, read informative parenting books and on of occasion- okay almost daily- search my fears about our son online. His well-being constantly buzzes in my brain, so with my mind on overload I often forget things such as items on grocery list. Please forgive me when my thoughts adrift and I seem to miss what you are saying, especially when our little dude fusses or even moves on the baby monitor. You are still in my thoughts and on my mind, but I am learning to live with the mom alarm in my head distracting me.
THE EMOTIONAL:
Mom-fear, Mom-guilt, Mom-insecurities, Mom-joys, all so real on this rollarcoaster that requires a secure buckle if you wanna ride! Growing up with sisters, you are well aware of the fluctuating power of the female emotions. However, the hormonal shifts I am undergoing topples every menstrual cycle and pregnancy feelings I‘ve ever muddled through. The fear of harm coming to my child (other cars, stairs and sharp coffee table corners are daily threats); the guilt of being away from my baby (thus a need to call and check in if I am away for more than 30 minutes); the insecurity about whether I am a good mother (hence the snapping at you for offering a suggestion to help our son- feels like an attack on my mothering abilities); and the Mom-joy (little smiles, cooing sounds, and wiggles delight me beyond belief) leave me crying, yelling and laughing sporadically with no forewarning. So buckle in partner on this wild ride for you! Thank you for your loving yet know-it-all logic which steadies my heart. Though, I often feel misunderstood emotionally, I am grateful for this disconnect because I desire our home to have a sanctuary not theme park vibe!
THE SPIRITUAL:
With such a drastic shift in me from all angles, feverant prayer keeps me relatively sane. Sleeping for me is an act of faith: a nightly surrendering his breaths to the one who gave him breath. I read him bible stories to remind myself of God’s love for him and how little control I possess. Such a deeper connection to God the giver and sustainer of life (and Mary of course as the Mother of God) occurs in my soul. Going to church is a necesscity now more than ever for that Living Water to pour into my empty bucket. Thank you for encouraging me in our shared faith!
So, I am affected and sometimes afflicted physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually by my motherhood. Since we, as parents, are called to sacrifice our selves so our son can flourish, I know fatherhood ain’t easy. Yet for the most part, you feel the same, just an added weight of responsibility. I am changing into a better version of myself and learning not to neglect you as my first love. Thank you for all your loving support and steady hands holding this shaking new momma! Our balanced disconnect in our parenting experience is united by our shared love of our son.
Sincerely,
your wifey
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