I held my smile as they passed, thinking about that precious shift in my life when I was a new mom and my husband and I transformed from a couple into a family of three and remembered: it didn't feel precious. It felt like hell. I felt like a complete idiot.
But my second kid? A lot has changed since then. You'll see.
My eyes welled with tears as I sat her down on the grass for the very first time. I watched with so many emotions as she leaned forward and grabbed hold of the earth with both tiny hands. Even as she tumbled and got a face-full of dirt I was smiling.
I must admit, from where I sit, here in a rocker in a corner of the nursery, the future looks daunting. Terrifying. Overwhelming.
My parenting prowess peaked about three months before I actually became a mom.
I did everything I could to fall backwards, not forwards, and succeeded, only to land on Norah’s leg, that clung innocently monkey-like to my back.
No matter which line I wound up in, I had a gut feeling that I didn’t listen to, but instead played out every worst-case scenario.
If only I could have met myself, walking into the hospital that day. Contracting and breathing heavily, anxious to meet my first born. I would have held my shaking hand and wiped my salty tears from my pained face. I would have had the chance to say to myself what no Mother is prepared for. What they don't teach at birthing classes. What you don't think about as you're registering at Target .
In so many cases, social media has taken the place of traditional paper announcements. About to have a baby? Never mind deciding between blue, pink, or gender-neutral green announcements, you have harder choices ahead.
My straight single girlfriends have told me they don’t want to advertise how baby hungry they are for fear of scaring men off. I can relate. My last long-term relationship ended in large part because of my baby fever. After three and a half years, I was tired of waiting, or at least unwilling to continue waiting without a plan that included a baby in the near future.
