Mommy Materiality: Conclusion

After ripping open the most medically advanced piece of plastic I ever peed on and seeing a "+" sign, I brimmed with excitement. My life now included more than just a twinkle in my eye.

However, when I discovered that I, in fact, had a parasitic bundle of cells sucking every ounce of energy from me, stealing my joy of eating and sleeping comfortably, I officially resented motherhood. At five months pregnant, my expectant child's tab had exceeded the tens of thousands of dollars range in medical expenses from the doctor's and hospital visits I accrued to date.

Slowly, though, the nausea subsided, and my every wish and whim was met with gusto! Needless to say, the last four months of my pregnancy went down as the best, most graciously indulgent time of my life. I felt revered and important. I saw only appreciation for my increasing waistline. People gave me gifts and fed me well.

If I wanted hot dogs for breakfast, I had them. If I wanted a jumbo Snickers ice cream blast, not a glance of judgment passed my way. If I needed Chex Mix for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Sean hopped to it because my desires could be passed off as the baby's absolute necessity; who would deny an unborn child some lowered blood pressure by giving the Mommy-to-be a foot rub?

At this time in my life, I could have sworn I lived in a little slice of heaven, reading everything I could get my hands on. I hadn't read this much since college, and all of the information seemed important because I wanted to prepare and know everything I could possibly expect. I also set a new record logging a ridiculous average of 12-14 hr.s a week watching TLC's "A Baby Story," to make sure I had the perfect labor and delivery grimace when it came time to push.

But no matter how many books I read to prepare for Pumpkin's arrival, doing motherhood live for the very first time made me question everything. Adding to the load of uncertainty came the unsolicited advice I got from friends, relatives and even old, opinionated ladies at the grocery store.

An older pediatrician once advised me to stop "spoiling" Pumpkin by holding her all the time and comforting her if she cried, especially at night -a total lie I could hardly believe a licensed physician would spread in good conscience.

I also got terrible advice/recommendations of what I needed for an infant from the Babies 'R' Us registry list. A good 20% of everything I registered for went completely unused. Caring for a newborn, although difficult at times, simply required a bigger volume of a smaller list of things: diapers, Desitin, onesies, blankets, burp cloths, breast milk and economy size doses of caffeine.

I even expected to bond with Pumpkin the moment I laid eyes on her, just like I heard from other moms, which I didn't. I emerged from my drug induced haze, weak from blood loss and barely able to pee alone without passing out, let alone comprehend that I officially became "plus one."

Weeks of colic and struggling to feed her in the wee small hours of the morning wore me down like the eraser end of a pencil full of mistakes. I felt like such a bad mom, so frustrated with Pumpkin and exhausted that I called my mom one night at 2:30 a.m. for help. And like every wonderful mom would, she listened and reassured me that I didn't need to jump off the nearest cliff to get the rest I needed.

Something else happened during my pregnancy, about the same time my nose turned into a bloodhound's, sniffing out the slightest bit of anything, anywhere. Unlike the incessant peeing every 6 minutes that ceased after delivery, this didn't go away. I started to tune into how my body felt as I never had before and began refuting the very logical side of me, the side that reasoned away everything and made sense of things for me.

I believe the extraordinarily maternal, instinctual part of being a woman finally emerged then and has not gone away since.

After Pumpkin arrived, I began to feel in sync with her as though she existed as an extension of my body, even though she was her own little person. When she hurt, I hurt worse. Her crying could make me tear up easily, and still tugs at my heart even now. When she experiences joy and laughter, I can't help but smile each and every time.

The Holy Grail of Mommy Truths that I learned and loved since those early days has proven itself time and again, worth it's weight in gold. A few regrets and uncertainties about my abilities as a mother and deciding the future of Pumpkin's health boiled down to reveal this truth: always trust your instincts.

That stirring feeling of "something's not right here" that I feel in my chest and in my head always gives me pause, like judging a fever with a touch of the hand. It makes us better listeners and observers of our children. It makes us push for answers and advocate for them as well. It makes us moms.

For instance, before Pumpkin and I left the hospital, my instincts told me the constant vomiting she experienced was not normal whatsoever and something didn't make sense. I felt ignored when I kept saying, "Something's really wrong," because all babies spit up, but I knew hers differed from normal baby stuff.

After constantly repeating my point of view, my tiny Pumpkin, only 6 days old, got an upper GI test done at the children's hospital which revealed exactly what I had been saying: she had significant and severe GERD (acid reflux disease). A specialist booked weekly office visits for her after seeing the results, and I knew right then to never question myself about how I felt towards Pumpkin. Thus, my truth revealed: Mommies know their babies better than doctors and nurses "know babies," and to speak up as I had.

The second part of my maternal instincts developed as I grew to know my baby. I learned Pumpkin's classic triad of expressions starting with the, "I'm about to spew," face.
I began to recognize her, "I'm leaving a present for you in my pants, turn away until I'm done," look and finally the treasured, "Pay attention to me unless you want a meltdown terminating any possible successful communication with another adult," rendition.

The hidden truth inside The Holy Grail was that I didn't need all the answers, which I clearly don't have. Maybe all I need to be a great mom is eyes to see, ears that will hear and a heart that loves.