We were getting prepared for our new arrival. On the outside we seemed to have everything under control. We had all the baby gear – car seat, stroller, crib, diapers, clothes, bouncy seat, and swing. The nursery was all set up and we carefully devised a budget that would accommodate living on one income. Mentally, I was also ready, or so I thought. I had forgotten the small fact that I never had to think of anyone else but myself in all of my 28 years of existence. I grew up the youngest of three children. I never had younger siblings that I was responsible for and because I was so involved in sports I rarely did any babysitting. I never even changed a diaper prior to this point. In fact, I was one of those people who ran whenever a baby entered the room. I always thought there was something wrong with me because while all of my friends hovered over the baby and wanted to hold it I secretly prayed that no one would pass the infant to me. I didn’t like the crying and I didn’t like to make funny faces or play peekaboo. I would take a puppy over an infant any day.
But soon I was going to be the mom. No matter how old my children get I sometimes can’t believe I am “the mom”. My grandmother is a mom. My mother is a mom. But me – a mom? All I ever knew my mom as was my mom – she went to the grocery store, she cooked us our meals, she did the laundry and we were totally dependent on her and she was always there whenever we needed her. You don’t think of your mom’s wild college days or summer lovers – she is plain old, dependable mom. I know my past. I have lived my past and sometimes I think if these kids really knew who they were entrusting their lives to they would run and run far. If they knew that not too long before they were born I was dancing on a bar top or won the beer chugging contest at penny pitcher night would they feel that I was the right person to take care of their every need? My kids have no idea whose hands they are entrusting their lives to because to them I am plain old, dependable mom just like my mom is to me and my mom’s mom was to her.
Not to lie I was starting to panic a little. Love can sure screw up a good thing. I had a child free, quiet, clean, independent life and then love happened and I wanted to share the greatest gift of all with this man – the creation of life and ever since then my clean, quiet, independent life went out the window right along with my boobs.