The Goddess Speaks
The Goddess Speaks
Motherhood has been a major transformation for me. Prior to Raquel's birth a little more than a year ago, a friend told me, "I just can't imagine you being a mother." I didn't take this as an insult, because I couldn't imagine myself as a mother either. Until my pregnancy, life revolved around a full-time job, spending time with my husband, and running. I couldn't imagine how motherhood would fit into my life. Planet Motherhood
is a beautiful placeWell-wishing co-workers warned me how hard it would be, "especially those first two months." I must admit, they were right. Feedings every two hours, projectile b.m., spit-ups after every meal, and more diapers and baby wipes than you could ever imagine. I wished I owned stock in Pampers.
I vaguely recall the details of my labor experience, but clearly remember the relief and joy when she was finally born. Marathon runners can relate. It's the feeling of total exhaustion, yet exhilaration that you have completed this monumental task. Yet, with marathoners, a shell lei and cup of beer to celebrate ends the festivities. With motherhood, the fun has just begun.
I sat in my hospital bed, gazing at the too-small-to-imagine creature in the plastic bassinet. Thank heavens, she's sleeping. As friends came to call, I would bamboozle them into changing her diaper. This lasted a day and a half. Soon, the moment arrived when my husband and I, both youngest children, had to change her diaper. We looked at each other as if to say, "OK. Now what?"
I'm a college graduate, heck, I even went to law school. I could handle this. I pulled out the package of Pampers and proceeded to read the directions on the back as my little Raquel's whimpers escalated into screams. With my husband pinning down her skinny, pink, wrinkled, chicken legs, I baby wiped from front to back, and slid the tiny newborn diaper under her little bottom, sealing her in with the cartooned adhesive tabs. Easy! No sweat! Proud of ourselves, we gazed at our precious gift.
The nurse came in, checked Raquel's vital signs, and began taking off her diaper, my masterpiece. "Is something wrong," I asked? "Oh no," she replied. "Don't worry. I just need to adjust the diaper. Its on backward."
Later that day, we took Raquel home, snuggled in her baby carrier. We placed the carrier on the floor in the middle of the living room. I smiled down at her, then looked up at my grinning husband. Our expressions turned from happiness to major concern. "Now what do we do?" we asked. Panic set in now that there was no doubt that we had a baby. Our lives would never, ever, be the same again.
It seemed like she cried every waking moment. I was so tired. I remember thinking, "If I could just close my eyes and sleep for 10 minutes, I would be so happy." I read everything I could on newborns, researched the Internet for answers. Did she have colic? Is she getting enough breastmilk? Is her b.m. normal? Were we doing something wrong?
There really were no definite answers. Friends who had children reassured me that it would get better. And it did.
But those first months of motherhood are now a faded memory. Blame it on post-partum memory loss, but in retrospect, I really can't remember exactly how hard it was. I compare it with the childbirth experience. After 17 hours of labor, I recall telling my husband, "This is it. Only one child." Now, almost a year later, were thinking of having another one someday, as memories of childbirth and Raquel's early days fade. Yes, it was hard, but not that hard.
I look at my daughter now as she takes her morning nap. She's snoring. Her mochi-soft skin and innocence brings a warm feeling and smile to my face. She is learning to walk and seems to understand the things we say. "Finger kiss!" I tell her as I offer her my finger. She points back at me, gently touching my fingertip with hers, chuckling. How happy I am to have landed on Planet Motherhood.
Stacy Yuen Hernandez is a
Honolulu free-lance writer. "
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