I'm sitting here Christmas Eve night with a ton of pictures to upload and listening to my mom sing "You are my Sunshine" to Jack as she tries to give me one more night's rest before the real nitty gritty of new momhood begins - that moment when everyone goes home and your new bundle becomes just one of the family. Mom leaves in the morning... like Santa most likely - slipping away in the early hours before anyone wakes. She's done everything ... there are things somehow that only a mom can do. I know it's hard on husbands to have their wives so dependent on mom in times like this. But it's hard wired somewhere. Like Steve needing Dave to buy a car... being perfectly capable on his own of course to do it, but having his Dad there for both of them. I do feel it's larger scale than that, but as Steve has told me several times, I don't really understand the significance of cars.
I'm going to cry a lot feeling lost and alone and overwhelmed without my mom here. I'm not at a loss for wonderful people offering to help who really will help and really will do what I need with a giving and happy heart. But theres just something about mom. It's that need in mom's eye that I recognize as my own when I look at Abby in need. I see Abby struggling, I see Abby in pain and my heart hurts until I can help, until I can do whatever I possibly can do make it better - whether it be a hug, a pat, or a madeline from Starbucks. And it's that look, that longing, that makes mom's help different than anything else.
Of course, different is not always bad. Moms (especially my mom and I ;) ) tend to get anxious until things are better... because better is all we want for our babies. Dads are pretty useful too... a very different touch - following a very different beat. But my Dad came to rescue me several times this week. My dad, I knew, felt more at peace being of use than not. Which meant I could give him Jack to hold the entire night and I knew Dad wasn't looking around hoping for someone to eventually rescue him from the duty. Though, I do have a sneaking suspicion my dad is special in that way. My dad, I knew, I could count on to give Abby that little extra wrestle play when Jack's dad was busy with whatever chore we needed for life, Christmas or ... well... anything. When Dad wants to come to the rescue, the emotional temperature of everything just... calms.
So, here ends the period where everyone is here, where I don't have to juggle baby with Abby with brushing my teeth. Here ends the sense that I can ask for that extra twenty minutes, just because. Here begins the time to stand up, to be mom, to be who I need to be.
All the same, it's also exciting... the beginning of our family. What will very likely be our complete family for many years to come. It won't be easy but it will be life and it will be good because we'll make it good.
And before I get too emotionally blinded to the obvious, I am so so so thankful that I am blessed with a mom and dad giving me this every weekend year round. It's not so far til Friday...
2 comments:
Of all the acceptable pictures you chose THAT one? If I had thought about it at all, I would have thought that in your delicate post condition you would be extra sensitive and make me look as good as possible. sigh.
I had a wonderful time playing the "mom" for two lovely weeks, my main consolation for returning to reality is that there is a mouse at my house...and Friday is indeed very close. Happy Christmas.
The bond between mother and daughter (and mother & son) is special and wonderful. I've always known and gratefully honored that in our family. And you already know I love to help out as the proverbial peripheral Dad. And this dad (as you know, too) is also a little weird that way. Holding Jack or being with Abby at the Mall puts me in that grandparent zone that's hard to explain but it is a pure gift to me. That zone in my pure imagination (all the guys reading this please block your eyes NOW) is similar to what a nursing mom must feel feeding her baby -- a bit spaced out with a strong sense of peace being the feeling in most focus. That my visits also serve to help you get a breather makes it all the more special.
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