Anne TootillTo Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part One
October 1st 2006 19:23
Flowers, flowers everywhere but by my bed not a one to spare. It was a banner night for births, fifteen in all. Something about a full moon and lots of water breaking. My semi-private room for two became an over-sized suite for four with one more for good measure. I found this fifth wheel when I tripped over her bed as, half asleep, I navigated to the bathroom the morning after.
I didn’t mind all the company though. It was a bonding experience. We chatted as if we’d known each other for years even though we all knew we’d probably never see or talk to one another again. Most importantly, it made me forget how sad I was.
I know, I know. I just gave birth to the cutest little bundle of joy. He’d come fully equipped with all the standard features but he was in a class all his own. He was gorgeous, anyone could see that, myself included, but for some reason I still felt so sad. And I was still drooling. The doctor had told me that as soon as I gave birth it would stop. As soon as, he’d said, as soon as the baby pops out, poof the saliva would be no more, that’s what he'd promised. Then when I gave birth and it didn’t stop he promised it would stop by the next day. But that time also came and passed and this time when I asked he wasn’t so sure anymore. He’d never heard of hyper- salivation lasting past the birth. Would it ever go away, would I drool for the rest of my life ? Please tellI me I'd part ways with my spit pot, I'd begged. Hopefully, was the best he could offer. Hopefully? It just was not enough.
By the end of the first twenty-four hours following my son’s birth I was still sad. But when my parents, my in-laws, my sisters and my husband came to qvell over their new grandson and nephew I put on my happy face because that was what I was supposed to do. That was who I was supposed to be. Everyone was interested in the baby, not me. I knew that was how it was supposed to be.
Everyone was interested in the baby, I understood, but not even one flower or balloon made its way to me. My parents had brought flowers when my sister had given birth to first my niece then my nephew. Why not me? I wanted to ask but I didn’t. Instead I felt angry and guilty. Angry because I had suffered through so much and no one, not a parent or a brother or a sister or my husband remembered me. Not a kind word acknowledging how much I went through . Not a flower or a gift. And yet all around me the other new moms were surrounded by both and how many of them had gone through half as much as me? I felt guilty. Guilty for feeling angry at wanting some attention for myself when I knew that the only one who should matter was my newborn son.
I was sad. Why was I sad? Having a baby, becoming a mother was a happy time, a blissful time, right?
I didn’t mind all the company though. It was a bonding experience. We chatted as if we’d known each other for years even though we all knew we’d probably never see or talk to one another again. Most importantly, it made me forget how sad I was.
I know, I know. I just gave birth to the cutest little bundle of joy. He’d come fully equipped with all the standard features but he was in a class all his own. He was gorgeous, anyone could see that, myself included, but for some reason I still felt so sad. And I was still drooling. The doctor had told me that as soon as I gave birth it would stop. As soon as, he’d said, as soon as the baby pops out, poof the saliva would be no more, that’s what he'd promised. Then when I gave birth and it didn’t stop he promised it would stop by the next day. But that time also came and passed and this time when I asked he wasn’t so sure anymore. He’d never heard of hyper- salivation lasting past the birth. Would it ever go away, would I drool for the rest of my life ? Please tellI me I'd part ways with my spit pot, I'd begged. Hopefully, was the best he could offer. Hopefully? It just was not enough.
By the end of the first twenty-four hours following my son’s birth I was still sad. But when my parents, my in-laws, my sisters and my husband came to qvell over their new grandson and nephew I put on my happy face because that was what I was supposed to do. That was who I was supposed to be. Everyone was interested in the baby, not me. I knew that was how it was supposed to be.
Everyone was interested in the baby, I understood, but not even one flower or balloon made its way to me. My parents had brought flowers when my sister had given birth to first my niece then my nephew. Why not me? I wanted to ask but I didn’t. Instead I felt angry and guilty. Angry because I had suffered through so much and no one, not a parent or a brother or a sister or my husband remembered me. Not a kind word acknowledging how much I went through . Not a flower or a gift. And yet all around me the other new moms were surrounded by both and how many of them had gone through half as much as me? I felt guilty. Guilty for feeling angry at wanting some attention for myself when I knew that the only one who should matter was my newborn son.
I was sad. Why was I sad? Having a baby, becoming a mother was a happy time, a blissful time, right?
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Juan Carlos
spain again
While your'e about it
Viva l'difference
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