a pink quilt

it was a wednesday. just me and finn. and after trying all the tricks in my novice mama bag, including shushing, swaddling, sucking, swinging-you know, EVERYTHING - still nothing was calming this fussy babe. i sensed he was both bored with our little house and overstimulated by all my efforts to soothe him.


so despite the heat, i decided that we would head outside and hope that a change in scenery would do the trick.

and much to my surprise, there on a pink quilt that used to cover my childhood bed, my son and i had the most magical thirty minutes together yet.

****

when finn was born i fell hard and fast for that boy, but as difficult as it is to admit, his birth day wasn't the celestial adventure i had dreamt up in my head. i was groggy from surgery and medications i never anticipated. i was terribly disappointed over the loss of the birth experience i had envisioned. i was dealing with pain that surprised me.


as we journeyed home and muddled through those first two weeks, there were moments that i would look at him and he sometimes felt like the littlest of strangers. darling and oh so dear to me but mysterious and strange nonetheless. a few times i found myself asking, "is this real?". and i am pretty sure the feeling was mutual - "is this my mother?". :) don't get me wrong, majority of our time together was peaceful and full of amazement, mostly because ryan and my mom are such loving caregivers and baby whisperers. and overall, we lucked out with a pretty happy baby and a dreamy sleeper - but the hard times, although few, were harder than i expected. pain limited how i could care for finn. he seemed to cry for only me and i felt like everyone else knew how to best calm him.


we still had to get to know one another.


well now, four weeks later, we most certainly know each other.


and it's safe to say that we are great friends.

****

during our time outside that wednesday we stared at one another, we gazed at the trees and the flickering light. and we chatted a bit. he was completely content. and each time that our eyes met i felt something that i hadn't before. all of my uncertainty took a back seat and i not only felt victorious, but that intoxicating, over the moon, full of love feeling washed over me. it was the celestial moment i thought i had missed out on.


as i realized that i could speak my baby's language and understand his needs, everything faded away...i felt more grateful than disappointed over the way finn entered the world: he was here and well. i told myself that babies just cry sometimes. its not personal. and i believed it this time. i remembered my days before finn and thought about how life now seems to be in technicolor. everything-the happiness, the fear, the love - it is all magnified. and it's so wonderful.


i suddenly felt confident and capable. and more importantly, i realized that in between the dirty diapers and five o'clock crying spells, i had discovered what i had been missing: the joy in motherhood.

and just like that. a warm day. a pink quilt. a happy boy.

i had finally arrived as a mother.