The Light at the End of the Tunnel

When I was pregnant, a wise co-worker and fellow mom told me that during the first few months after the Peanut was born, I would feel like I was in a tunnel—a place where there was only baby on the brain all the time, when I wasn’t really sure who I was anymore because of the dramatic change in my life (and the sleep-deprivation, of course).  I saw her a few months ago and told her I had emerged from the tunnel, but now I don’t think I really did.  I recognize that parenting is never stagnant, things are always changing, but then I still felt like I was floundering at times.

Now eight months in, I feel like I have a better hold on things, and I think I am finally seeing the light for real.  I’ve nursed and changed diapers in restaurants, at church, on buses, in subway stations and in a subway car itself.  I know how to pack for trips of various lengths and I’m not afraid to take day trips or even travel across the country.  I can play with Jacob and still get things done both around the apartment and for work.  I am excited to start each day and content when I reflect back each evening.

This is not to say that things go perfectly every day—or any day, for that matter.  When I make plans, I know I need to be ready to change them the next instant, depending on naps, nursing, or weather.  I still struggle to keep my priorities straight and tackle the tougher things on my plate instead of surfing the web or vegging out in front of Hulu. I know I can’t do everything at once, but I feel more confident that I can do anything if I try.

I write this today for new moms, expectant moms, and for myself for when, God willing, the next Peanut comes along.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel!

When I was pregnant and after I gave birth, I was nearly convinced that all the things that were supposed to happen with new moms would not happen to me.  I had no problem believing these things occurred for almost every other mom on the planet, but I knew I would be the exception.  For example:

• I would not be able to figure out how to change a baby in public, especially when there wasn’t a changing table in the bathroom.

Kamagra contain Sildenafil cheap cialis overnight Citrate is an oral drug utilized for treating male ineptitude (e.g., erectile dysfunction). See here – I will share my Kamagra tablets with you but you have to make sure that surgery is performed safely without any kind of sildenafil bulk complications. It is a medical condition where men are unable to get long and rigid online viagra erection for enough periods to get sexual pleasure required in any sexual relationship. They should adopt the competitive pricing policy to boost their product in the market. cialis online prescription http://deeprootsmag.org/2017/07/11/beauty-ease-and-contemplation-in-equal-measure/
 

• I would not be able to nurse my baby in public, nor would I be able to discreetly nurse without essentially undressing and redressing myself.

• The above two points proved that I would never be able to go out in the world for more than forty-five minutes at a time, for fear I would not be in the comfort of my home when a feeding, changing, or napping need arose.

• I would never be able to wear my pre-pregnancy clothes again, which meant I had a closet full of clothes I couldn’t wear and would need to rebuild a wardrobe from the ground up—for a body I wasn’t comfortable in.

• I would not be able to decipher my baby’s cries.  (I’ve learned that maternal instinct is not necessarily “instinctive”, per se.  I may not have figured Jacob out right off the bat, but I have come to know him very well, and now I trust my gut when it comes to his needs and wants.  That’s what it should be called:  “maternal gut.”)

• I would not be able to keep the baby happy, the house clean, us well-fed, and continue the work I love as a writer and editor.

By the grace of God, every single one of these fears has been quashed.  I know I am not perfect, but I know that I am doing the best job I can.  I know that I was given to Jacob and Jacob to me by some greater plan than my own, and I trust that that is the right thing for both of us.  Despite my doubts, despite my fears, I know that I am exactly where—and who—I am supposed to be.  I only hope I can come to that more quickly the next time around!