Admission

I have to confess that I never understood. I never got it. It never made any sense to me, but now - now, though - now, it so does. Wow. Now, it makes sense.

Everyone said I should sleep while I could. They said I should enjoy the peace and the free time and the general freedom of being able to go and do as I pleased. They offered to bring me meals, because "once she comes, you won't want to cook." They said it would change, and that I would understand all too soon; even as they said that, though, I doubted it and chalked it all up to their uncanny exaggeration abilities.

Now, though, I understand that it was no exaggeration.

Everything has changed.

For several weeks, when I was up feeding Leah in the middle of the night, I was reading "Chicken Soup for the New Mother's Soul." In those bleary-eyed hours of the morning, I was especially prone to self-pity. "I want to sleep," I'd think. "Poor me.....I'm so sleepy......I'm so tired......This is so hard.......Poor, pitiful me....." (I wouldn't think those exact words, but that's the main gist.) Reading something more uplifting, though, was good for me, and it reminded me in those times that I'm not the only woman to ever have gone through this adjustment and that it will get better and that someone (lots of people, actually) understand what it feels like to love someone so intensely but to struggle with the change that they brought. In any case, the book - which my Granny bought for me when she found out I was pregnant - was a lifesaver to me in those very early weeks.

One night, as I sat feeding Leah and reading the wonderful book, I came across a line that summed it all up. I don't remember now which article it was in, so I can't put my finger on it now and can't quote it exactly, but it said something like this: "Everything slows down to a glacial pace, but you can't keep up with anything."

"Yes!" I thought. "That's IT! THAT'S why this is so hard!" I was so excited as I realized that in that one sentence was the reason for the feeling I had that I was banging my head against the wall.....running in circles.....whatever illustration you may choose for staying exhaustingly busy but making no progress. At the end of every day, I look back and wonder, "What the heck did I do all day? I know I was busy, but seriously.......WHAT WAS I DOING?" There's a reason for that.

I'd get up and, starving, know I needed to eat breakfast. As I made my way to the kitchen, a cry would catch my attention. This cry wasn't from Leah, as you might expect. This cry was from my breasts and I realized quickly that I needed to spend some time with my pump for a few minutes before Leah woke up. In serious discomfort (you know what I'm talking about), I would sit with my breast pump for about 10 minutes before the cry I heard was from Leah, and she would want her breakfast. I would take care of that and would get so sleepy that we dozed off together when she finished. I would wake up with only moments to spare before she wanted to eat again. Once that was taken care of, I'd go in the kitchen to get my breakfast and, while my Eggo was in the toaster, Leah would cry. I wouldn't know why, so I'd run to her side. Captivated by her beauty, I'd stay there long after I realized that her cry was nothing more than her realizing that she had a voice and could make noise. My stomach would growl, and I would realize that I still hadn't eaten. Back to the kitchen I'd go, where my waffle was now cold again. I'd scarf it down in about a minute before I saw the growing collection of bottles in the sink that needed my attention before she needed to eat again. I'd wash the bottles and mix up some formula, and then realize that Leah needed to be changed. Up the stairs we'd go, where the diaper change would become a minor calamity. She'd pee or poo as soon as I removed the diaper, which would mess up her pajamas. This would necessitate an entire outfit change. Before I could do that, though, I'd have to admire her for a few more minutes, and then go through all of her adorable clothes to see what might fit and what she might be able to wear that day. Then I'd stare at her for a few more minutes before moving on with the diaper change and getting her dressed. I'd see how cute her outfit was, and then realize I needed a picture. I'd find my camera in the diaper bag, which reminded me that I needed to restock it before I went out again.......so I'd do that before I forgot.....and then she'd need to eat.... On and on it would go, and before I knew it, Scott was home, it was suppertime (thank GOODNESS for those lovely people who brought us food!), and we were trying to get ourselves to bed. All too soon, it all began again; staying up in the wee hours of the morning made the days blur together to the point that I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Preparing a meal for myself suddenly was of little importance, which was a good thing since it took so long to do so. My goals for the day were usually little more ambitious than simply taking a shower. A successful day was defined by a sleeping, full, clean baby.

At some point, I realized I understood what everyone had meant with their well-intentioned warnings. I realized I had become a member of the sisterhood of mothers, and as a result, I, too, had developed an understanding of the trials and tribulations of taking care of a newborn.

As a result, though, I also developed a keen understanding of the fulfillment that comes from nurturing a little one and watching her grow, and of the love that wells up like a spring in the heart of mothers when they look at their children.

I finally understand.