My Baby Girl

A question I often received while pregnant with dr.b was, 'Are you excited?'. One would think my response would be an automatic 'YES!'. But no. Actually, my response was not an automatic anything. I had to really search myself to appreciate or even understand how I felt about the inevitability of this new babe.

I know one reservation I had about a new child was the whole going from one to two thing. But that was too simple a reason to feel unsure.

Another reason, of course, was being on maternity leave again. While I loved being off with e, we all know how tough that year was on me.

In fact, that would be reason number three as to why I wasn't jumping full tilt for joy at the prospect of another baby: what if this baby is just as challenging as e had been???

But, when it really got down to it, there was only one real reason I was not fully excited: the entrance of a new baby meant the exit (ish) of the first one. My little e would not be the baby anymore.

I only fully realized this upsetting thought tonight as I did my nightly visit to her room to watch her as she slept. In this moment I still see my baby girl: my first baby. My favourite girl in the whole world. In her sleep she still moves her body like a baby, lifting her hands up like only a baby does, so gently and innocently. The way she breathes, the way her body relaxes. In these few moments I am reacquainted with my baby e, and it's magical.

But tonight, as I left the room, the longing really hit me. My baby. My first baby girl. That perfect, albeit challenging, little being with whom my whole heart belongs, will never again be my baby.

And this realization took me back to that Sunday nearly nine weeks ago when I dropped her off at her grandparents. I sobbed as I turned and left her because I knew that nothing would ever be the same (for her) after that day. I thought at the time that these tears were truly for her: I was saddened to think that someone would be imposing on the attention she always had received from her parents. I thought it was sad that this wonderful gift would be gone from her life forever: her days as an only child would be no more. And truly, this thought really did make me so sad...my heart hurt for her. I hated that we were doing this to her...Though I did know that she needed a sibling, a (God willing) friend for her for life...

But that was not the only reason for my tears. They were not so selfless. No. I was crying for me. Because from the moment I dropped e off, from that very moment, she was no longer my baby; my first baby; the baby with whom I had so many struggles, heart-aches and joys. The girl around whom nearly all my early posts focused. The girl who in any given moment could break my heart, leave me in awe and fill me so full...


Those same tears that I cried when I left e to have dr. b resurfaced on the happy day when we brought dr. b home from the hospital. As e's grandparents lifted her from the SUV Volvo that had brought her home to meet the new addition, I stood watching excitedly at the door. However, while this was an exciting and happy time, all I could do was sob...As I stood there, I saw a stranger: the girl whom had always been my baby girl, looked so big to me now. My heart broke even more.

My first baby would no longer be that - my baby. And I will never get her back.


During the time of dr. b's birth, e grew up. She became my little girl. And while this prospect is exciting, and I should regard it all in a positive light, it still makes me sick in my heart to know that that little baby has gone forever...

And so I will continue to go in every night and catch those little glimpses of my baby e...

Robert Munsch was oh so right. He captured the essence of this need to hold on to my baby so perfectly...

I love e forever,
I love e for always...
As long as I'm living,
My baby she'll be...

*tear...

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Control

So, I thought I knew myself well, and on the surface, I do. But at the core, I am very ignorant about a very prevalent (apparently) trait of mine. Seemingly, I am a control freak. I think I've tried hard to spend my life pretending I am carefree - a free spirit if you will. But you only have to know me for a brief minute to know that my free spirit act takes a lot of effort and energy....

Because deep to the core of me, I am a control freak. But you already knew that didn't you?

Step one foot into my classroom and it is apparent.

Listen to me talk about my weight and it's obvious.

Hear me try and sort out some relationship with someone and you realize that i. have. to. be. in. control. Not in control of someone. Just in control. Of all situations. I have to know what's going on at all times. And I have to know how to deal appropriately with situations. AT. ALL. TIMES.

And I will ask everyone their thoughts. And I will research every situation similar to mine. Because I am in desperate search for this intangible and unattainable concept of control.

And yet, hypothetically, if not spiritually and/or philosophically, I know that life's greatest gift to us is its ability to surprise us. To humble us. To remind us that we are absolutely at its mercy and whim.

And yet I still try to fight it.

You know: going to a psychic and all that. Isn't such a gesture my way of trying to defy the inevitable - which of course is that the only control I have in this here life is the choices I make?

Okay. So this entry might be a bit of a ramble. Let me get to my point.

What I have learned in my thirty two years, mostly in the last two, is that it is better to ease off and try my damndest to let things just happen authentically, organically.

The need to relinquish my obsession with trying to be the Master of My Universe has proven to be even more necessary when I bore my children. In particular, of course, when they were babies. Because if you didn't know this already - they rule the roosts. They are the bosses. And don't even try to attempt otherwise. They will humble us parents again and again; constantly reminding us that they have us by our kahunas...

We do have to guide and lead in some aspects, but in many ways, we have to stand back and let our little ones find their comfort.

For instance, try putting a child who is not tired, or who is the other extreme: wired, to bed. Try as we might, they will not sleep. There are windows we must watch for. That first yawn or the glazed over eyes. Only then is it productive to try and lay a babe down.

We must follow our little one's lead.

Now, as I've said, I like to lead.

And I am old.

Set in my ways.

So you can imagine how undergoing this new way of being, this new perspective or whatever, is very foreign to me. And very hard to adapt to.

Survival of the fittest my ass.

It's hard to adapt.

But I am trying.

And d and e are constantly reasserting and reminding me that I. am. not. in. control.  No matter how hard I try, they are the ring leaders...I am just the guide (ha ha)...

Maybe I will one day fully surrender myself to this concept.

Until then I will make myself miserable on a daily basis as I continue to try to fight what simply is.

Foolish mom!

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