What you wish you knew...M
What you wish you knew...M
Moms, I need your help.
When you became pregnant (for the first time), what was the one thing you wish someone had told you about being pregnant. What took you by surprise? What weren't you prepared for? Also, what is the one thing or piece of advice you wish you got once you brought your new baby home. Please tell me anything you wish about the changes in your body, what you did/did not get for your nursery, if you were/weren't prepared for something substantial, etc. Thanks in advance for you input. You can email me directly at j.cushii@gmail.com.
Enjoy writing/reading PNN.
Thanks,
Jamie
Silenced
Silenced
"No, no, no!, No, no, no!" Only a mother of a 14 month old would repeat this word, over and over and over again from the time dusk appears to the time dawn takes the sunshine from our lives each day. It often begins just as dusk is about to break. My husband has just dropped a freshly diapered, sweet smelling baby into my bed. He kisses us good-bye, hand me a sippy cup, filled with milk and he's on his way to keep me in my current position of stay-at-home-mom. She grabs her cup with both hands and sucks away to get her first nourishment of the day. Once her bottle is done we both take a deep breath. I pop a binky (pacifier if you didn't know) in her mouth, she rolls to her side, burrows deep into my bosom, rests comfortably in my arms and settles in until the sun peeks over the roof top and into my bedroom. And then the games begin.
I breathe in and breathe out, wading in the purgatory between bliss and horror, as I watch her tiny little hand rise up from under the covers where it had been resting on my chest. Before I understand what has happened her hand has slammed on my face, my nose to be exact, and the nails that I neglected to adequately trim the day before dig into my nose and hold on tight. At her 12 months wellness visit her pediatrician told me it was time to introduce a body part or two into her repertoire. "Nose" she had suggested. "No, no, no!" I wailed. My hand lifts to grab her hand and after a few short seconds of struggle she releases her grasp, looks up at me with enormous blue eyes and makes a muffled, pacifier-filled giggle/smile.
Fast forward into the early morning. I have survived three more diaper changes (imagine if you will dealing with a greased octopus on speed), successfully fed her breakfast (who needs a swiffer when you have a dog?), and managed to play with all of her "Little People", with focus, for the last 20 minutes. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, is that hand again. It reaches up, as quick as a fly taking off from the counter top once it feels the swatter closing in, and firmly grabs a substantial lock of my hair. The pain is swift and sudden, but yet, it lingers. She simply doesn't let go. I grab her and maneuver her tiny body so she is standing in front of me. Initially I thought this would cause her to let go and set me free, but alas, she holds on tight. "No, no, no!" I cry in agony.
The clock strikes 9 and I sigh. I snatch her into my arms, pour 8 ounces of milk in a sippy cup (no more bottles!) and head upstairs to change yet another diaper, close the blinds and prepare for my calgon moment. Some might call it "nap time". We sit in the rocking chair gliding back and forth. The sippy cup has been emptied, her eyes are large and looking at me, and then I see it again. The hand. As the word, "no" begins to form on my lips I feel that sweet little hand reach around my neck and hold on tight. The other one follows and grabs onto the other side. Her cheek is stuck to my cheek, her chest is pressed against my chest, and my breath is taken away by what I realize is happening. It took 14 months for my daughter to reach out and hug me. It's a feeling I will never forget. It was a gesture that brought tears to my eyes and made me forget every single "no" I've ever uttered.
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