6 minute read
ON SURVIVING THE FIRST YEAR
Let me not even start with the whole saga of a natural childbirth. It is nothing short of epic. Mine went pretty much like this: The start of ‘contractions’ during a pedicure - who knew they could feel like a professional footballer (yes, wearing cleats) landing a well placed kick riiiight in the middle of your back with progressively more violence and at increasingly regular intervals. During this time my friends E, T and N were trying to convince me of the inevitable truth, as was my sister. My rebuttal: “No man, I’ll just keep track of these, go home, put my feet up...”. Fifteen hours of denial followed, fueled by my knowledge that my Doctor was . off the island (scheduled to return the next morning. Of course). I vaguely remember a useless hot shower, desperately attempted in all my clothes to help with the by then near unbearable pain. There was a hasty exodus at 3:30 am, after somehow taking precious time to apply mascara and do my hair (sheer madness), with a halfasleep husband whom I had sent to bed after firmly denying that I was in fact in labour. A speedy check-in during which they discovered I had gotten there “just in time” (how reassuring) was followed by the au natural birth of my beautiful son about two hours later. As much as I hate to be a cliché, he was worth every back-breaking contraction. Listen, do NOT close your eyes during contractions. Do it and you’ll enter a dark, scary space where its just you and the mind blowing pain threatening to take over what little sanity you have left. Pick a point. Focus. And breathe.
Apparently I got ‘off light’ and, truth be told, I really had a pretty good pregnancy. I had my times when I felt glowing. I enjoyed staying active with walking, swimming, and pre-natal DVD workouts including yoga & pilates right up until the week before I gave birth. Ironically I have never felt more confident in a bikini than when I was nine months pregnant; go figure.
I have not, as the Nurses promised, forgotten the pain as soon as I saw my son’s face. People warn me when I’m ‘oohing’ over the newest born babies of friends: “mind you don’t get broody”. Nope. Not there yet.
Now, I appreciate the words of wisdom
from those who have gone before. I must say though, I’ve been fed some real humdingers. I’ve been publicly admonished and had many an eyebrow raised for cutting my son’s hair before his first birthday - apparently I have now cursed him to a life without speech. As for that birth mark on his leg, how DARE I have denied myself a craving, then touched my own leg and ‘marked’ my son (“Look like kidney she wanted. Nuh true?”)?? Another good one was: “Mek the drool run!!!” (this being screamed at me whilst someone quite literally ‘bolt’ed - yes, pun intended- across a crowded churchyard as I raised an arm to wipe my son’s wet-from-teething-induceddrool chin before it drenched his shirt).
I’ve learnt a ‘face’, the good ole’ smile and nod, and a gracious “Ok, thank you”, to present to passersby who have unsolicited, unfounded or sometimes quite hurtful and invasive advice so that I can accept it as gracefully as possible (and then admittedly maybe roll my eyes or take a deep breath after a silent ‘suck teet’ when they depart).
Please know that I’ve not been too proud to gratefully receive and apply some great gems of wisdom, which have made my life (and laundry) easier. Easily near the top of the list are to have those saline drops handy for the first few weeks of stuffynoses, to cover nether regions to avoid the ever-feared ‘spraying’ while changing the diaper of your
new young man and to make sure you take those little fluffy socks off newborn kicking feet before changing a diaper-get a mental image of that going wrong. Forget the fancy toys, the packaging wins out. Every time. The best advice - to make sure I trust myself and my instincts. They haven’t failed me yet. And of course to pray-a lot.
My son is healthy, happy and a joy to be around. He is blessed with a wonderful Father, and we have an assortment of family and . friends who love our boy without reservation. Its been a blessing to me personally that some of my closest friends are new Mummy’s themselves (and to our cell service!). I cannot overemphasise the importance of a routine (*note that I don’t use the word schedule here since babies have their own clock, but I’ve found a routine KEY to anticipating his needs). I’m learning the therapeutic effect of talking to myself/my baby, to allow myself a moment to feel like a failure, to forgive myself when I feel I’ve faltered, and to revel in the triumphs, no matter how small they may seem. Never before have I really appreciated the restorative power in a deep breath, or the sanctuary that is a hot shower. We have great ‘talks’, he’s an opinionated little guy, taking on the world fearlessly with his own inimitable language. Dancing around (he’s partial to soca), beach trips, anything to do with water, ‘singing’ (finally someone who appreciates my voice!), reading and painting are some favorite activities for us, and I hope to instill a love for books and the arts in him along with his already natural boyish a nity for lizards, balls and cars. No pressure baby boy. No pressure...
My life has been refocused in a way I cannot describe, and forced me to really take a long hard look at myself while reevaluating, well, just about everything. I’ve learnt how to multitask like never before (one has to in order to pull all nighters when your baby decides he is pulling one too; to learn do pretty much everything one handed; or to be able to do leg lifts while he finds it wildly amusing shoving his fingers up your nose). He’s given me the courage, passion and the power to unashamedly pursue my dreams. He is the definition of unconditional love. I finally am beginning to ‘get’ the love my own
Mother tried to describe to me years ago...Yes, and you may get out your little violins, I enjoy my son. Thoroughly. So bring it on Year Two. Mi ready (just give me a day or so to remove all dangerous objects in his nowwalking reach). Until next time - waddle on, walk good and enjoy the journey.
THE BEST JUST GOT BETTER...
...AND KEEPS GETTING BETTER
MAILPACLOCAL
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