There’d be no butterflies

Five years ago, I was enormously pregnant with my first child and facing a serious crisis of confidence.  I was making the big change from Footloose and Fancy Free to Someone’s Mother.  Gone were the days of staying out late with my friends on a whim, sharing bottle after bottle of red wine and talking about the world.   No more spending money on anything and everything I wanted.  No more spur-of-the-moment weekend plans with my husband.  Would I be a good mother?  Would I really have that love that everyone says you have for your child?  Would I be attentive and affectionate, or distant and resentful?  Had I made a terrible mistake?  Was there any getting out of it?!

(The answer to that last question, by the way?  A big scary echo-y “no”.)

Memorably, as I sat in the train station with a friend after a (soft drink only) night out, I found myself musing, somewhat mortified, that P and I were now joined forever.  That we would never be out of each other’s lives, even if we decided to take completely different paths in life, because we would always always be joined by this child.  My friend pointed out that we were already joined forever, being married and all.  I waved my hand dismissively and said, “Marriages end all the time.  Being a parent is…permanent.”

And then Bean was born and she was awesome.  I mean, she was a terror – sleepless, wide-eyed, overstimulated and wailing.  But I did have that love for her, that absolute devotion that I’d heard so much about.  And all in all, I am a good mother.  I’m not winning any prizes, and there have been bumps in the road (hello, nursemaid’s elbow at the mall!), but I can look at my Bean today and see that we’re all doing okay.  She’s bright and healthy, smart and funny, kind and confident.  All good things.

And very soon, Bean will be facing some big changes of her own.  She’s going to be a big sister.  Her days as an only child are numbered.  Sometimes, when she’s dancing to her beloved “rock and roll” or getting lost in a make-believe world, I wonder if we’re doing something awful to her.  I wonder if we’ll break her heart by adding a new person to our little clan.  I wonder if it will be terrible for her to share the spotlight, the attention, the love.

If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies.  ~Author Unknown

And then she’ll tell me how much she wishes the baby was here already.  How she can’t wait to help with the baby, but not with diapers.  How she’ll make special artwork to hang in the baby’s room, and make books to read to the baby at bedtime.  How she’ll teach “our baby” to look both ways before crossing the street, how to use a spoon, how to read, how not to drool on toys, and the right way to give treats to the cat.  My big, grown-up, clever girl is all set for her new role.

And I think…we might not win any prizes, but we’re all going to be okay.

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