Some days I wonder why the hospital let me leave with my baby in tow. Don’t they know that I have no clue what I’m doing and I haven’t read the “Motherhood Manual”?
Take today for example. My darling husband was putting together my breast pump (because heaven forbid I try and read instructions!). He got around to telling me how it works and I sort of stared at him wide-eyed when he told me that I had to bend over at the waist and let the pump, and gravity, do it’s work.
Wow, I really am going to be like a milking cow!
Of course, he burst out laughing as the mental picture entered his head. I didn’t bend over and stand there. I’m not that naive, but when a baby is taking all of your rest and nutrients reading basic instructions or deciphering your husband’s sarcastic humor is far from easy.
And don’t even get me started on colic.
Talk about making you feel like an incompetent parent! A baby with colic is not fun. And when the cries go from high pitch to dog pitch (you know, the ones that have no sound but we’re sure the dogs can hear it), you reach this level of despair at being unable to comfort your poor, suffering child. Tears!!! And not my little one’s…my own. Yikes! What’s the deal?! I suck at this!
And that moment when she was so exhausted from her crying and she snuggles her head against me, finding comfort in my scent and my warmth, her head against my heart and her arm across my chest…..that moment when she knows (and I know) that I’m mom….and everything is going to be okay….