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Monday, May 9, 2011


Being a mother of two can be very overwhelming. I know it and my #2 is still conveniently living in my belly. My first taste at this new complexity in my life as a parent is stemming from my rightfully needy 18 month old and my pregnancy blahs that make me want to just sit and sip a spiked lemonade. Olivia needs to me to have boundless energy and patience for her and sometimes this can put me in a funk. As I approach my due date my body is really hurting this time around, I feel uncomfortable and fatigued and this affects my hormones. It's all a cycle and the end result is me being eternally grateful for a mom that is so helpful because Todd is so tied up with school and work, too.

I refuse to lament myself for more than a few minutes. Those moments where I am alone in the shower, and I hear Olivia outside whining and look down at an enormous baby bulge and I wonder what the hell am I doing. I feel a desire to cry and feel sorry for myself but I can't. The tears burn behind my eyeballs but something stops me from wishing some things were different, for wishing certain people were different than they are, and yearning for flashbacks of my former life. Maybe the reason I cannot just feel sorry for myself is because I know the person I search for no longer exists, the me I am today is the only one left. This me is stronger and smarter that the one who lived for herself daily and had no one to care for.
“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.” -Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh
Last night as I lay in bed, the baby's movements were stronger than usual. Usually, they are soft and fluid, sometimes abrupt but never the dance parties Olivia used to have. As I finally started to doze off happy to see the crappy day end she kicked me. Hard. Then she did it again. And again. The kicks had a calculated pause in between as if she was waiting to make sure she had my full attention. I brought my hand to my belly skin, the closest I can get to touching her for now, and she seemed to relax. She had gotten my attention, and then started to just lightly move around again. I couldn't help but feel she was trying to tell me something. It was as if she wanted to say, "I will be worth it, mom. I promise."


Radiant said...

Aww I'm sure she was :)

Shauna said...

You are a beautiful writer Valeria! Being a good mother is being selfless and saying not "my" will but "your will God" and you seem to be realizing this. I know that it is difficult to transition from sexy single to spit on, tired, frumpy feeling mom but it will get better.
God Bless you!