This week my lovely sister-in-law has chosen the topic for our writing exercise. Go bask in the glory of her brilliance right here: mamagriffith.blogspot.com and if her brilliance fails to at least give you a small sunburn, I’m sure she will refund you in full. This weeks topic…
New Mom Syndrome
A new mom is an interesting phenomenon. She is confident enough to drag her battered body out of the hospital bed just hours after birth, march through the sterile halls to a nursery that she can’t quite remember touring, and demand the return of her infant from the evil clutches of the nurses, certain that their years of training and experience fall far short when compared to her genetic connection to the aforementioned infant and the liberal use of blind instinct. And yet she can become frantic enough to call her child’s pediatrician because her little one’s belly button “looks gross.”
Of course none of these scenarios would ever happen to such a naturally talented and innately sane individual such as myself, cough cough, obviously. I’m just saying that such things can occur. Although I do recall leaving my first baby with my mother for 20 min while I ran over to camp for something. Now, he was several months old at this point and liked to have some play time on the floor. But when I laid him on the carpet to play I would sit right there beside him and say encouraging things while he kicked and batted at toys. Much to my horror upon my return, My mother had set MY BABY on the floor with a toy a full 3 feet away from herself and she had the nerve to sit in the rocking chair sewing something (for me) instead of sitting right next to him interacting the whole time. I was deeply enraged! But I remember barely pulling myself together for I realized that I had arrived in time and the damage to his psyche would be minimal if I leaped to his aid immediately.
And then subsequent children arrive and one must learn to do 12 things simultaneously. To nurse your infant in the hallway while watching your big boys making typhoons in the tub. To carry your infant in the backpack while you cook dinner, almost every night. To read stories to all three boys at once, in one big heap instead of quietly relishing an individual story one on one. To make them hold your pockets while you cross the street because you no longer have enough hands. To look for blood before declaring that they are damaged for life. And to laugh after you have banished them to their rooms for painting the kitchen floor with a liberal coating of flour.
And so please forgive us if you are a new mom and catch us giggling delicately behind one hand, or even choking on some errant food particle when you scream profanities at your husband for letting one of the baby’s ears poke out of his little hat. It’s not all you. Part of it is the memories of insanities past and insanities present. Perhaps a little bit of pride at all that we have come through and the knowledge that should you choose to reproduce a second time, you yourself will be looking back with a smirk on your own face knowing that you have learned so very much.
Go New Moms! We love you and we were you and you are doing just fine.