7 yrs ago today, I became a mom for the 1st time. He was perfect and I was a mess. I was bloated, tired and I sweated just breathing. I couldn’t walk and I felt deserving of an award for taking the biggest crap in 2010. To this day, I cringe when I get a glimpse of my very 1st picture with my newborn. He was perfect and I was a mess.
At the hospital, my baby cried. He cried a lot. I cried too. Maybe I should have not worn my green robe; it was a Fleece with a hoodie. It was hot! I walked around the ward with my new baby like a boss. Thank goodness for the robe.. ah, now I remember it was covering what felt like a newly grown butt. I felt like there were parts of my body that shrank while others felt like they expanded out of this universe. so my nosey self walked around looking for other babies that were crying.. and blamed the scary big needle on your back for the reason why other babies didn’t cry as much. It was easier to make believe and create these theories at the time.. there were so many questions and it seems no one to answer. I went home 2 days later carrying my love at first sight.
For the next few months, I got to know tired beyond belief. Learned how to multitask and use my toes to pick up fallen items from the floor. I googled a lot of ‘what ifs’ with baby and didn’t mind the 2 hour wait for my family Dr. Just so my baby can be checked with a trusted professional. It irked me to have visitors.. didn’t matter if I love them to bits. I couldn’t understand why people didn’t see the tiredness I felt inside. I gave up quickly on breast feeding and felt like I didn’t do good for my baby. I didn’t trust myself to make enough and this caused a lot of sadness. I was spiraling to a place I didn’t like. It was dark and lonely. So I had a cigarette. I needed to take it out and felt every smokey exhale carried a little bit of that sadness. It was, sadly, at that point in my life, the lesser of both evil.
My baby grew. He was more perfect than ever. He missed me when I returned to work. I took on a new role at work too. I felt this little person was giving me some magical power that can let me do anything I pit my mind to. So much joy and love in my crowded 1 bedroom apartment. I met a girl who invited me to the gym.. because we wanted to be the biggest loser at work. I didn’t win. But eventually the smoking stopped and I could wear a pencil skirt.
Then after 3 years.. my Angel came. The labor was different, it hurt different and lasted half the time. He is 3.5 yrs old today. I see me in him. Easy going, easily embarrassed as a child and full of life. He is just as perfect. I spend less time on google and more time trying to understand and get to know my baby. He cried even more. He didn’t let me sleep. I reminisce and look back at how my 1st born had spoiled me rotten.
Our family trips were so much more fun and became less frequent. Our 1 bedroom in what I still believe, is the best part of Toronto had become too crammed and we moved to the suburbs. We got a house that had enough room for just 1 more. He came soon after. My ‘bunso’ is tagalog for last baby or child. He is beautiful and just as perfect as his brothers. He is a momma’s boy according to the IT guy. I might not have a hospital picture with my angel but I do have 1at home. Still without makeup because I really couldn’t be bothered. I felt and look like a mom. That’s is what I see and expect to see. My kids are perfect and I am good.
With the 3 kids, I am busy. Not trying to pursue new abilities or skills outside motherhood. I’m just not interested. My body hurts from being tired. My toes have become excellent picker-uppers and I swear to you my right and left ears can hear and focus separately to hear at least 2kids at a time. I don’t really google anymore, I don’t watch much TV either. I’ve got an early bedtime and learned the dishes and laundry can wait. The truth is, I love being mom. It is the best role yet. The best hat I’ve worn. My kids bring me joy only mothers know about. My kids are perfect and I am blessed.