WARNING: Reading this blog may cause nausea and dizziness. It contains flowery, overly descriptive sentences about love and motherhood.
When people ask me to describe what it’s like being a parent, my first thought is usually “Indescribable”.
But that’s a cop-out, isn’t it?! ?
So, today, my first Mother’s Day, I’m going to attempt to describe this new world I’m living in.
The thing is, the way I feel about being a Mum changes all the time, depending on what kind of day I’m having with my son.
It’s contextual. As in:
When I’m breastfeeding, it’s primal. It’s a weird kind of nice to be needed so…. desperately. I swear I can feel myself literally falling towards him with love (thank you oxytocin!).
When he screams at 3 am, I’m irritable (well, I was, until I tried this trick).
When he does something for the first time, I feel like I’m gonna burst with pride (even though the rational part of me knows that most of the 350,000 kids born each day reach these same milestones).
When he’s sick, I’m panicked, anxious.
When I’m sick, I wish he had a volume control.
When he’s sleeping, I feel gratified.
When he smiles, I feel like I have a purpose.
(I warned you, didn’t I?! ?)
When I tell other parents how much I worry about him (Is he too hot? Is he too cold? Is he hungry??!!) they laugh and tell me to get used to it! At night I find myself checking to see if he’s still breathing (my girlfriends have reassured me that I haven’t lost my sanity, and they too did exactly the same thing).
Being Hakavai’s Mum is intoxicating, and scary and incredible.
And underpinning all of it is the most raw and visceral feeling – and that’s the part that’s hard to describe. It’s a kind of love I simply couldn’t have imagined before I had him.
I love his little moro reflex (a vestige from our evolutionary past).
I love his squawks. They sound exactly like a pterodactyl (or how I imagine a pterodactyl would sound), although when he’s really worked up he sounds just like a baby. Funny that!
I love his masses of black hair (admittedly it has thinned somewhat).
His ski jump nose (mine). His ears (Michael’s).
The way his eyes get all doughy and dopey when he’s milk drunk.
I feel like it just can’t be healthy to love someone as much as I love Hak.
But guess what? I wouldn’t change a thing.
To all the strong Mum’s, witty Mum’s, patient Mum’s, to the Mum’s who really need a glass of wine and the Mum’s who are just about to lose it, to the frustrated Mum’s and the blissful Mum’s and everything in between – Happy Mother’s Day.
What a privilege it is to experience all of this.