As we approach Seton’s first birthday, I find myself reflecting on how motherhood has changed me.
The instant Seton was born, I didn’t feel the overwhelming sense of love that I had expected. I felt physical relief that labor was over. The doctor handed her to me and as she lay on my chest, I thought, “I can’t hold her.” I was shaking, slightly terrified at the experience of labor and numb to any emotion that may be deemed maternal.
Davey recognized I {didn’t want} to hold her –I feel so weird writing that — and he willingly scooped her up and walked around the hospital room with her.
I remember watching him thinking, “how is he already this good? How does he already love her?” I had never seen him hold a baby before. It looked as if he had been holding her his whole life. She fit perfectly into his arms. I was jealous of my husband who seemed to be feeling everything I wanted to feel.
The one emotion I remember strongly was the new sense of responsibility. I knew I had to keep her alive. A nurse told me that Seton had some fluid in her lungs because she was coughing it up. It was really not a big deal, but I became paranoid about watching to make sure she was breathing. So I didn’t take my eyes off of her that first day. Looking back, I guess I was thinking that the least I could do (if I couldn’t love her) was make sure she kept breathing.
Exhaustion has a weird power over a human, and the more I watched Seton’s small chest rise and fall as she lay in her bassinet, the more I felt pulled toward sleep. She was born at 3:21am and as the next night approached I felt I couldn’t even watch her to make sure she stay alive.
I asked them to keep her in the nursery that night.
I felt so ashamed.
I am a rational and loving person, I kept telling myself. I will grow to love her.
And I did.
After the first week at home, I told Davey, “I can’t believe it, but I love her.”
He thought it sounded funny because he giggled and said, “of course you do.”
And now, almost a year later, I am completely shocked by how much I love her. I’m even more shocked that the love does not stop growing.
My life used to be my life. Every decision I made was based on what would make me the happiest.
What job makes me happy? Which friends make me happy? Which TV show make me happy? What book should I read to make me happy?
Now, each and every decision I make, I make for Seton. If I seek happiness for myself, it’s because I want to radiate joy to her.
In many ways, I have matured. I imagine other people reach this maturity sooner in life than I did. I used to care so much about what other people think.
I used to get upset that old ladies in the grocery store would criticize me for not having socks on Seton.
But, now? I don’t care what they think. I know she pulls her socks off.
I used to care about upsetting people in church because Seton is a distraction.
But, now? I don’t care what they think. I know it’s more important for me to bring Seton to church than it is to worry about other people being distracted.
I used to feel so guilty about leaving work in time to pick Seton up from daycare.
But, now? I don’t care what anyone thinks. I know it’s more important that I spend one more waking hour with my daughter than finish discharge summaries or return a phone call from a patient I’ve already spoken to twice about confirming his appointment.
It took becoming a mother for me to fully dissociate myself from others’ concerns and criticisms.
It’s only been one year, and I feel like the person I am and the direction my life is going has completely changed.
And I love it.
