Nearly 10 years ago, I gave birth to my first-born, my Sofia Vincenza. I was scheduled to go in for my routine OB visit when due to the baby being breach, me losing fluids and having elevated blood pressure, she arrived 2 weeks ahead of time. A perfect little girl that loved to be held and loved listening to the voices around her.
Although a few months still from her 10th birthday, I wanted to gather my thoughts to those first few weeks as a first time mother.
They were hard.
My doctor was amazing, the nurses incredible and friends and family beside us through all of the journey. But then there was me. I was alone in my head. Maybe I read too much, opened myself up to all the possibilities of what could go wrong, didn’t trust myself enough to be a good first-time mom. Maybe it was postpartum and I never admitted it to anyone in those first few weeks. Ok, I never really admitted it to anyone, ever. I was worried of being judged, worried of what others would say or think of me of my new role as a mom. As a daughter, a sister, a student, a friend, a wife, a cousin, a niece, a grand-daughter, an employee, etc. Those I knew where I stood, I knew I was capable, I rarely thought twice of my performance because I just knew.
When I first became a mom, I didn’t just know. I had to work at it. I had to work at not knowing what to do and figuring it out. And not the figuring out like in college when I lived away from home and did things for myself. This time I was responsible for another person, someone who couldn’t tell me what they wanted or needed. There was a lot of guessing going on.
But we seemed to manage it. Yes, there were days my husband would come home to find me holding our daughter and crying. And for no reason. She could have been sleeping in my arms, could have just been staring up at me, something simple, and I would be crying. I didn’t care what I looked like for a long time because I hadn’t figured out timing, leaving her be for a few minutes, asking for help. In the end, I figured it out. She helped me. I learned to help myself, filter out what I needed from others and what I didn’t need.
Sometimes I think if I had had a little more courage in myself, more faith in myself as a new-time mom, those first few weeks might not have been so hard. I read the books, listened to advice, covered outlets. I did what I thought I was supposed to do but didn’t truly prepare myself for the emotional side of what was going on inside of me. There’s always going to be something you miss, no matter how OCD you are. Preparing yourself and actually living through it are so very different.
qualcosa di bello 