Adjusting

The first night after Lillian was born I had a crazy nurse. She was a bent over Chinese woman with a thick accent, expert in her care of Lillian and totally oblivious to me. Now, that is really not as sad as it sounds. I didn't want much to do with her, nor she with me. Our arrangement worked out fine for both of us. Well, sort of.

Being the brand new mom that I was, I wanted to do what I was supposed to do (still do, in fact). In my mind, what I was supposed to do was have Lillian in the room with me. I was supposed to nurse her expertly from the first moment we laid eyes upon each other. I was supposed to be awesome.

Well. I was not awesome, nor did I end up having Lillian in the room with me over night. When that nurse brought Lillian into my room for a feeding at 2:30 a.m., try as I might, I couldn't figure out how to feed her. And so, I lied.

Let the truth now be known. I lied my face off. The nurse came back in and said, "How much you feed the baby, honey?" 

I said,"Oh it went great. She nursed for about 25 minutes. She's ready to go back to you."

"You sure you nurse her? You no need some help?"

"Um, nope, it went just great. We're fine."

Lies. All of them.

She took Lillian and I tried to fall back asleep. But I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep because I hadn't fed my baby, and I couldn't sleep because I didn't know how to and even though I knew she wasn't going to starve to death, I knew I had a long road ahead in trying to figure it all out. And I was so scared I was going to be a miserable failure.

Over the last 12 months of Lillian's life, I've undergone a grand adjustment. Sometimes, I didn't love it. Sometimes, instead of the bond of mother to child feeling like what Robert Frost called a "silken tie of love and thought" it felt like a chain that threatened to strangle me.

I have to say that, shocking as it may sound. It's painfully honest, but it's true.

There's been times that I've missed my old life. Yet, I love my child with an intensity and a fierceness it has startled me. One night as I sat nursing her in my nursing chair, the waves of adjustment, both good and bad, washed over me. I felt tired, longing for bed; yet simultaneously, I felt so much love for the baby laying in my arms that I wanted to hold her all night long. I felt hopelessly inept, wondering when I'd feel like I was "good" at this mothering thing, when it would feel more familiar and less scary.

It was then that the thought occurred to me that I'd been through periods of adjustment before. My first year after my mission. My first year of teaching. My first year in New York. What I know about adjustment and change is that figuring it out happens slowly, but you do eventually find your way. And when you do, it becomes easy. In fact, every single time, I've learned to love that which initially was so difficult.

I don't know when the adjustment from single career woman to full time mommy occurred. Perhaps it isn't fully over, yet. Nevertheless, it feels less crazy, less overwhelming, more content, more complete.

I laugh as I look back at the new mommy fighting sleep in that hospital room who had just lied to the nurse. I also feel a lot of compassion for her. There's so much I'd try to tell her now, if I could.

.

I would try to tell her convincingly enough for her to believe me that taking care of her newborn daughter wasn't nearly as scary as it seemed . I would also tell her husband, the one with the deer-in-the-headlights-I've-been-terrified-of-commitment-for-35-years-and-I-just-did-the-first-irreversible-thing-in-my-life-look, that he, too, was going to be okay.

I would tell them both that life as they knew it was about to change forever, and that was okay, too. I would tell them they didn't have to be perfect right now.  I would tell them that unspeakable joy awaited them as they watch their daughter learn to crawl. then walk; as they help her learn to eat; and as they listen to her earnest, patient, and wholly undecipherable one-sided conversations.

But maybe I'd let her figure all that out for herself. Maybe the best thing would be to just tell her that it was all going to be okay and to get some sleep. Because sometimes you lie to nurses. And that's okay, too.