moms: i am in awe of you

Happy Mother’s Day!

I have been thinking non-stop about Moms over the course of the last week. Of course because Mother’s Day was coming. But also because I babysat my 7-month old nephew last Friday for an overnight.

His first overnight away from home and his Mom and Dad. At my house. With me and Craig, totally not conditioned to lead the charge with the wants and needs of a little wee person.

It was such an amazing, humbling, invigorating experience. And it left me in such awe of all that Moms (and Dads!) come to know and do each and every day.

We were a little apprehensive taking my nephew for an overnight. But we did the same thing with his older brother when he was 7 months, so I knew we would make it through. And we did with flying colors. In just 24 hours I got to bond and share such intimate moments with him—and with Craig—and I realized how extraordinary parenting can be.

My nephew has such a joyous, peaceful nature about him, that you cannot help but slow down and take in the moment with him.

He is at that incredible stage where everything is alive. He gets excited and giggly staring up at the ceiling, watching the trees sway in the breeze, seeing his reflection in the mirror. His head cocks to the side and he makes these soft baby bird noises that remind you how much delight there is in being.

Moms get to know this experience on such a profound level. It becomes a part of who you are, it changes everything you do and see and know. Moms GET IT. They are so in tune with what their kiddos need, how to respond to stimuli and stress, how to comfort, when to jump up, when to hold back. It’s not something you’re ever really taught, I imagine it just becomes part of what you ARE once you are responsible for the well-being of your child.

My nephew is mostly breastfed, and I was worried that he wouldn’t be too thrilled when he woke up in the night to discover that the boob had been banished. He took a bottle before bed semi-willingly, though I think he mostly wanted to chew on the bottle nipple. I swaddled him and rocked him and told him I loved him, and then put him down for the night in the guest room in the awesome co-sleeper/crib that my sister gave us.

He wasn’t thrilled. I could hear our little bug making a raucous after I left the room. I waited and hoped he would calm down. Not so much. I went back in and patted his bum and reswaddled him. He didn’t want to see me. Well, of course not! I’m not the mama! I imagined how my sister would know exactly what to do. She would know just how to respond. Just how to comfort him. Without even having to try.

I was clueless. And amazed at the same time.

Craig started to panic a little. What had we gotten ourselves into! Would our little bug be up all night? How were we going to handle this? Craig didn’t like the sound of a baby calling out. No kidding. It sucks. I’m not his mama, but that sound is heart wrenching. So Craig quickly extricated himself to our car’s backseat in the driveway to finish his post-work lie-down. That man can nap anywhere.

I went back up and told my nephew that everything was okay. I reswaddled him and cuddled him and rocked him again. And suddenly I was singing lullabies that I didn’t even know I knew. He looked up at me with such a penetrating gaze that I felt rumblings deep within my being that I didn’t realize existed. Primal love and protection. I told him I loved him and that everything was okay and that it was night-night but I would be close by. I put him back in his co-sleeper, tucked him in burrito-style, and then I tiptoed out of the guest room. He carried on for a few more minutes and then he was quiet.

I waited.

Silence.

I think I forgot to breathe for a few minutes.

I checked on him and he was fast asleep. Baby asleep, check! Craig asleep in the car, check!

I remember sitting outside on the front steps as dusk descended, straining every few minutes because I thought I was hearing him cry. No crying. Just the breeze and cardinals living it up in our front bushes on a warm Friday night. And maybe the sound of Craig snoring (?) coming from the back of our car.

But, wow, suddenly you are so keyed in to the sound of a child. And I imagine that Moms don’t even realize how ON they are to have this heightened sense of awareness with them 24/7. It’s an unbelievable responsibility and a gift unlike any other.

My nephew slept through the night. All the way. My sister had warned me that he would likely wake up at some point in the night, but he didn’t. I was psyched and nervous all at the same time.

Having an infant in your house makes you instantly aware of every single noise within a mile radius. Suddenly you have super-sonic hearing, and every car that drives by sounds like a jet engine. Every neighborhood dog bark might as well be a lion’s roar. I had no idea how badly our stairs creak and moan at every step. Or how our side door slams. Or how loud the flush of the toilet is. Having a baby in the house amplifies everything. The present moment is amplified times a thousand.

And Moms deal with this day in, day out. No matter what. On-duty. Ready to act and react. Whether you’ve worked a full day, whether you got a good night’s sleep, whether you are sick as a dog.

Despite all the noises, our little bug slept all night long. In fact, he slept right through his normal 6:30 a.m.-ish wakeup. And so did I.

When I stirred and looked at the clock and saw that it was 9 a.m., I bolted from the bed and catapulted myself into the guest room. Holy crap! Was he awake? Was he alive? What had I done?

I threw open the door and he was asleep, but my sudden movements and sound startled him awake. He looked at me with that quizzical, “Do I know you?” baby look, and I was instantly relieved that he was okay, but horrified when I figured out that both he and I knew that I was not the mama. Moms get the joy and recognition of that cellular bond with their baby when they greet each other each day. I got more of a scrunched nose “I think you’re alright” recognition.

It’s okay. I’m not the mama. I’m okay with that. I love you to bits and beyond anyway.

I could tell that my nephew wasn’t quite ready to see me, so I backed away slowly, and he went back to bed.

I was up, so I made coffee, showered, and cleaned up downstairs. I could hear him chatting and chirping a little while later. Sounds that tugged at my heart. I was so excited to get the little bug up and play. I missed him. And then it dawned on me. It doesn’t matter what kind of night you’ve had, or how tired you are, or how draining work is.

Moms just love. It’s that simple. They love. They ooze love for their kiddos. And it is endless. This love renews itself on a daily basis. And it never stops. It’s a blessing that makes you see the world with endless possibilities.

The rest of our time together was fantastic. Craig and I fed him banana and sweet potato for breakfast and were enthralled at the noises he made and the way he worked his hands as he “chewed”.

We gave him another bottle and he housed it. My nephew grabbed the bottle away from Craig’s hands and held it all by himself. We were the proudest non-parents in the land.

We got him in for his next nap without a peep. I took the little bug for a jaunt around the neighborhood in the kick-ass sling my sister left us. We talked about every flower and tree and bird and car we saw. I felt such an overwhelming sense of gratitude to have the opportunity to be in his presence.

Moms (and Dads) do all of this every day. Rain or shine. Sickness or health. Better or worse. Year after year. And we are all so lucky that they love and teach and nurture.

Soon my nephew will be crawling and then walking. And our house will need a thorough child-proofing if we want to have him spend the night again. But I don’t care. I will do whatever is necessary.

And maybe, if I am lucky, my nephew can one day come spend the night and hang out with his cousin. My own little bug. Because I think I’m just about ready to take on the hardest, most challenging job in the world.

Thank you, Moms.

For every time you got up 2, 3, 4, and 5 times a night because we were unsettled. For how you dealt with the egg-on-the-forehead because we biffed and hit our fragile noggin on some unfortunate hard surface. For when we were in the biting stage and embarrassed you because we bit you and everyone else we could get our teeth on. For when we had a ridiculous tantrum in a store while you were in the checkout aisle and you dropped everything and bolted because you couldn’t deal. For when we refused to wear anything else but wonder-woman underroos and sweatpants. For when we couldn’t make it through a swim lesson without crying and carrying on. For when we projectile-vomited non-stop for multiple hours after a stomach virus and you had to take us to the hospital. For when we tripped while roller skating on the sidewalk and let the whole neighborhood know we broke our wrist while you waited at the door with car keys in hand to forage us to the hospital. For when we flipped over the handle bars on our bike and cried in the middle of the street.

For when we got in trouble for passing notes in 6th grade that had swear words in them and had to come home from school and hang our head and tell you. For when we came close to dropping out of high school because we hated every class and every teacher. For when we went to college 3000 miles away. For when we moved back in with you after college. For when we threw caution to the wind and hiked the Appalachian Trail instead of working in a cubicle. For when we decided to buy a house with our partner before getting married. For when, after 7 years together, we decided to marry our beloved on top of a mountain.

Thank you to my Mom. Thank you to Craig’s Mom.

Thank you to my older sis and Craig’s older sis. And thank you to my younger sis who’s due any day with twins. I feel so fortunate to be a part of such a powerful collective of women. I am lucky to have such a wealth of resources and inspiration to draw upon. And I am ready to give back.

Tags: gratitude

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 9th, 2010 at 11:57 pm and is filed under On the Subject of Parenthood, The Daily Balance. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.