Why can’t I love this, Continued

Amazing comments, as usual. Was anyone else completely flabbergasted by this little gem from Julie:

I feel like I am a prisoner of the love I feel for my child.

Wow. Yeah.

I really don’t know what to say about that. I’m on the other side of it now, that feeling of just being so awash in the combo of love and fear (about something concrete, like SIDS or painful diaper rash or malnutrition, or something nebulous, like not doing all the things a "good mother" does) and constant constant need. Once 2 gets closer, it gets less all-encompassing.

But I can still remember exactly the way it feels, and reading that all of you are in the middle of it makes me wish I could send you all a big hug, a full-body massage, and a cup of tea.

Here’s something for today (actually tomorrow, since I’m writing this on Wednesday night, even, instead of scrambling to do it between my shower and blending my spinach smoothie to drink on the way to work–yay me!):

Describe a moment of clarity (positive or negative or neutral) that you’ve had about yourself or parenting or your relationship with your child.

I’ll go first. I remember one morning, when my older son was a few months old, and I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of the day. It was not one of the days I went out to a breastfeeding support group or the mothers’ group, and I didn’t really have friends I could just call up and say "So what are we doing today?" yet. It was hot and I was cranky and I’d already sung "I’ve Been Working On the Railroad" a dozen times (if you blow a raspberry every time you sing "Dinah won’t you blow" it makes a baby laugh).

So I was sitting there, thinking about what a loser I was for having no plans, not really "stimulating" him "enough" (see, even the aggressively zen Moxie buys the bullshit at full price sometimes), and really just not wanting to jump through all the hoops all day. And then he looked at me and just snuggled in. And I had this flash of realization that I didn’t have to do anything, that exactly what I was is exactly who he needed. I could not fail, because all he needed was me, as I was.

It was one of the most liberating moments of my life. And then I probably called my mom and overanalyzed it with her, because that’s what we do.


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