Messy Manger: Fear Not, Mama

When a woman has in her care a tiny baby, there seems to be an aura about her. A certain glow, nay--a lightning bolt, that says, "Please tell me what to do!"

I, author of present article, am an introvert, which I enjoy. (No, seriously. I do.) Introverts do not enjoy strangers talking to them, let alone telling them how to rear their most precious babies whom they love more than they ever thought possible.

Once, I was reprimanded by a most gentle and caring, elderly man. I was in Walmart (typical) being harsh with my three tiny kids. His reproach was beyond patient and loving, which encouraged me to 1) stop being mean to my kids, and 2) be open to kind, loving strangers.

One such stranger approached me not long after the Walmart event. I was hauling my kids into the ol' minivan on a busy Medford street when a bent over Italian woman clutched my arm. With all her heart she said, "Don't have anymore. It's too much. It's just too much." Imagining what her generation dealt with, yeah. I could see her point.

The most ominous advice we get is, "Treasure this time! They grow up so fast!"

And then they're gone.

For all eternity.

Into adulthood.

And you'll never get them back.

We seem to only get this advice when our kids are under twelve pounds and we are sleep deprived to the point of torture. Knowing we are NOT on our A-game, we fret, thinking we are missing some huge piece of the puzzle and will one day wake up when all our babies are 14, 16, and 18, and then it's too late!!!

~~~

Babydaddy is working late tonight.

I was feeding my "babies" pizza, chatting about the day and the weekend to come. I realized that I'm not missing it. I just knew I would. But I'm not. When you're in that fog of constant demand and sleeplessness, you assume you cannot possibly recover until the kids are out of the house for good. And that would be too late.

But my kids are still tiny. Well, small-tiny.

I just couldn't believe my eyes tonight. I'm sitting with my kids, just 4, 6, and 8, and I'm loving it. They still have chub on their cheeks and fingernails I have to cut, and I am present enough to relish all of our time. I am subconsciously and willingly loving this!

I never thought this was a possibility.

Every time I was nursing a newborn to sustainable life, fear lurked in the corner of my mind. I held these babies I loved so much, but felt I was wishing it all away for lack of sleep.

I guess now there's a little more light on the subject.

I loved my babies, just like you all have loved your babies. And any moment I was cognizant enough to reflect on the moment, I savored it. Every few feedings I'd stop my brain and realize I had the most beautiful creation in my own arms.

So tonight I'm thinking about all my girlfriends who are nursing their first, second, or third babies. And I'm hoping they can all rest well--for no more than three hours at a time--knowing that they are doing everything they possibly can to love their babies.

The photos below are out of order....they are my visual reminiscence of the moments I sleepily savored.