On motherhood

At my six-week postpartum checkup yesterday, the midwife asked me, "What's been the most surprising part of motherhood?" I had to really think about answer and just said the first that came to mind. The real answer is: I still don't think I feel like a mom. Now, don't worry. It's not that I'm experiencing postpartum depression or haven't bonded with my baby or anything like that. I just haven't had that moment yet where it hits me that I'm a mother now.

This isn't the first time in my life that I've experienced this sense of identity confusion. I've always been someone who likes the idea of profound moments -- big, life changing moments where your world changes. Only, I've never really had one. I always thought that graduation or getting engaged or married would be those moments for me, but then I've found they're not. They are subtle, natural progressions of life that, while wonderful, aren't the shriek-out-loud, I-can't-believe-it's-happening-to-me moments I once anticipated. I didn't have a moment at or after our wedding when I thought to myself, Wow, I'm someone's wife. Wes and I had been dating for four years. We'd been engaged for almost a year of that time. I knew what was about to happen. We'd already mentally and emotionally committed ourselves to each other. The wedding was simply a formality.

I did somehow think, though, that having a baby would be different. While the other events are all big in their own way, this one involves bringing another human being into the world. I definitely thought I would cry when I saw my baby for the first time, be overwhelmed looking at him. But it didn't happen that way. I was happy, for sure. I was relieved that he was healthy. But then he was whisked away to have his head examined (hah, hah -- no, literally). Back at home, I keep waiting for these moments that scream, "You're a mom." You'd think the 24-hour care of a child that you created would do that, but it hasn't. I had a lot of childcare experience before I had Ollie. So dressing him, changing him, feeding him (albeit in a different form), washing his little socks, even rocking him to sleep -- I've done all those things with other people's kids.

I keep looking at him and saying, "Just smile at me like you know I'm your mom." Of course, he's still a bit young to be smiling at anything just yet. I'd like to think that when he's crying and I pick him up and he stops that it's because I'm his mom, but probably it's just because I'm two warm arms. As much as I love how little he is (and as much as I hate that my family won't get to see him when he's still this warm, snuggly little guy), part of me can't wait until he can smile back or laugh when I play with him or just call me mom.

It's weird that when I look at him, I don't necessarily associate him with what grew in my womb for 9 months. I intellectually know they are one and the same, but emotionally there's a disconnect. I was pregnant. Now I have a baby. Did one lead to the other? I find myself watching baby shows on television (hey, I have to entertain myself somehow during those endless hours of nursing -- whoever said they sit and gaze into their child's eyes while they nurse either a) didn't have a kid who clenches his eyes and fists shut while he eats, and/or b) didn't spend as many hours nursing as I do) and getting misty when the women give birth, thinking, Oh, what a cute baby. Then I look down and think, Oh yeah, I did that. I have one of those.

I saw a video in a psychology class about marriage in which a man said that he didn't know how to explain that he loved his wife. He could only say he cared for her and about her and would be devestated if she were gone. I would say the same about Ollie. I understand that he's mine (though if we base it just on looks, he's more Wes's than mine for sure). I love him and would certainly be devestated if he were gone -- which explains why I'm constantly moving him away from the side of co-sleeper, where he smooshes his nose and mouth right against the side.

I know what it is that makes you a mom -- and no, in my opinion, it's not giving birth -- but I haven't yet figured out what it is that makes you feel like you're a mom.