*What motherhood means to Pamela, mother to 4-month-old Eva*
Being a mother means thinking about writing this essay for three days before there is actually time to do it, writing half of it, and then trying to write more, piece by piece, for several weeks after the fact before it is actually finished.
Being a mother means an ache in my heart when I leave her in the morning and a bizarre sense of accomplishment and focus at work that I hadn’t expected, and feel guilty about regularly. Motherhood is conflicting emotions. When I pick her up at the end of the day, I want to smother her with hugs and kisses and smack the nursery director in the face as she coos with my daughter and recounts just how much fun they had together all day. When we are alone her simple smile fills up my heart and my eyes, with tears and I ask myself how I can leave this creature to be taken care of by someone else. After nearly four months, motherhood means being spoken to and yelled at in a language I can't yet understand- an endless guessing game of getting to know each other. It means founding her fan club and keeping it going for the next hundred years.
Being a mother means sacrificing (in whatever form sacrifice may come), without question, for her; putting her needs before mine. My pre-motherhood fetish for shoes has turned into a nearly obsessive attraction to tiny little ones for which I have to convince myself she’ll grow out of too quickly to be worth buying. So, perhaps I have not become completely selfless, because her happiness gratifies me and gives me an indescribable satisfaction.
A sense of time and mortality have come over me, that I’ve never felt before. Absolutely nothing is forever and everyday is to be cherished and not just floated through as the current carries you. And time. There is never enough. You can't borrow it, steal it, save it, lend it, let it collect interest, get it back from a friend to whom you lent it, or earn more of it for something good you did. But, you can waste it. Being a parent brings new meaning to the cheesy maxim 'live everyday as if it were your last.'
Eva grabbed one of the toys hanging in the baby gym, held it in her hand and stared at it for the first time yesterday and it'll never happen again. I can only hope that her father or I will be present for as many of her firsts as time permits, even the small ones. The realization that I will not live forever may have scared the hell out of me only 13 months ago, but fear is not an option anymore. I have to accept and prepare for this fact. She must have everything she needs. I need to teach her love and independence and loyalty; all the important lessons in life, and of course not to smack the nursery director just because you may be jealous of her.
*Pamela* *October 9, 2010* *510 words*
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