Becoming A Mother

May 12, 2020

To My Baby Boy -

I hope you explore this world with a broad sense of wonder, an open mind, and a kind heart

I hope you find your passions and feel the satisfaction that comes from pouring every ounce of yourself into them

I hope you experience failure and disappointment such that the success is so much sweeter

I hope that "I'll try again" always replaces "I can't"

I hope you always find the courage stand up for what you believe in and live true to your own heart

I hope you know that I'll do my best to provide you with opportunity, lead you by example and teach you with kindness. Above all else, I hope you know that my love for you is unchanging.

You are strong. You are resilient. You are brave.

Love Always -

Mom

Becoming a mother. There is a clear before and after. A life that brought me to the moment that my son entered this world and a new life that carries on beyond it.

How I told Marc to which he
nonchalantly commented
"Hey look, balloons"...

I never imagined having my first child in my thirties, and then I found myself newly single at 29 with the life I had planned no longer a reality. In walks the handsome redhead.. But that story has been told here so I'll skip a few steps. After receiving some not-so-optimistic news regarding my potential fertility, Marc and I knew we wanted to start trying soon after our wedding so in the early parts of 2019, I did everything to prepare: forewent caffeine and alcohol, tracked cycles, reduced workout intensity. Thus, when those two pinks appeared, my honest first reaction was relief followed quickly by an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The excitement didn't set in until I heard Marc pull up in the driveway right before I got to share the news.

I'll go ahead and say it plainly; the first half of my pregnancy was absolutely awful. Nausea set in around week 5 and lingered until week 17. I went from eating an almost exclusively whole food diet to surviving on pancakes, pb&j, and cheesy noodles because that's all I could physically stomach. I was so exhausted most days, I'd come home from work and take a nap at 5 pm, and it was a good week if I got in 3 days of any kind of exercise. I'd imagined myself having a super healthy and fit pregnancy, and I constantly felt like that was slipping from me. That I wasn't doing enough. It was a period of learning to let go of control and have grace for whatever my best happened to be that day.

As the nausea subsided, I was able to go back to normal eating and exercising (I've detailed my physical journey in this post for those who are interested), and the second half of pregnancy flew by. Somewhat unintentionally, I traveled 10 out of the last 19 weeks. 4 weeks in Australia / New Zealand, 1 week in Spain, and 5 weeks of work travel to Chicago. On my last Chicago trip, at just over 35 weeks, it was 15 degrees and snowing, my coat didn't button over my belly, I was carrying my suitcase up a flight of stairs to get to the metro with my hips feeling as if they were going to explode; and I remember thinking, "What the HECK are you doing?". We settled in after that.

Roy's Peak hike in New Zealand at 25 weeks

My water broke in the middle of the night on March 1, and our little man made his appearance 18 hours later coming so fast in the end that the doctor barely had time to put gloves on. He was here, and this, my friends, is where expectations versus reality truly diverge. I expected to feel this rush of emotion when they put him on my chest for the first time, the overwhelming love that everyone talks about. I didn't. Those feelings didn't start to emerge until later and are still changing and growing ten weeks later. I expected to be able to implement the strategies I had read in books (ha!) or at a minimum have a natural gut feeling as to what would work for my baby. Instead, I felt like the only mother in world who couldn't tell one cry from another or read her baby's cues. I expected to enjoy the down time and bonding moments of maternity leave, but I struggled. I struggled with the lack of balance. I struggled with not feeling productive. I second guessed every decision with the weight of his future and well-being baring down on me. I think it's funny that we are required to prove competence before assuming almost any other role in our lives, but in perhaps the most critical role as a parent, you walk out of the hospital, and they are like "Yep. See ya later. Keep him alive.." The first six weeks of his life were the most unqualified I've ever felt in mine.

Again. A lesson in grace.

I wish someone would have told me that it is a process. It takes time. Like months of time. Looking back it feels like only a blip on the radar, but when you are in it, it feels all-consuming and everlasting. I can say that life as a mom is more of how imagined now, perhaps even better than I imagined. There are moments where love and gratitude come over me so strongly that they literally feel as if they are too big for my heart. I'm learning his behaviors, patterns and cues and becoming more in tune with my instincts as a parent as well. I can appreciate the slow moments in the day knowing that time will one day go faster than I want, and on top of it all, my love and respect for my husband has deepened immensely as we've partnered through the beginning of what may be our greatest chapter yet.

At 9:46 PM on March 1, 2020, Owen Albert Leachman made me a mom and changed my heart forever.

Happy (Belated) Mother's Day to all of the moms out there. I'm honored to share the title.