The fourth wall of the fourth trimester

I know some women fall in love with their babies the instant they are born, or even beforehand. That's not how it worked for me, the first time around - it took weeks. I realize this is a scandalous admission, to some, like acknowledging the audience's existence in the middle of a play.

I remember it very clearly, the minute I pushed out my son... they put him on my stomach and the very first thought I had was: 'Dude. Did I just make that?'.

There you have it right there, the most inspiring story of pregnancy, birthing and motherhood, sure to inspire legions of women to follow in my footsteps and procreate so that they too can experience the joy of 'holy crap, what just came out of me?'.

I have always been a voracious reader[1] so naturally, when I found out I was pregnant[3], I instantly stocked up on all of The Classics. I remember reading about all the endorphins that would rush through my body during birth and breastfeeding, and I personified the supposed endorphins as mighty little superheroes rushing around my body from site to site, roaring battle cries as they raced from site to site.

But somehow after 14 hours of labor and one hour and fifty seven minutes of pushing ("After two hours, we're going to use the vacuum" says my OB), I didn't actually feel the endorphin rush. The only rush I felt was the Oh-Crap-I-Just-Had-A-Kid-What-The-Hell-Am-I-Supposed-To-Do-Now rush, the anti-rush of coming down from my epidural high and starting a hearty new dose of percoset.

When they placed him on my chest, I remember thinking how beautiful he was, and wondering how I'd created such a beautiful little thing. A beautiful little squawking thing who didn't stop screaming for the first 2 hours of his life. A beautiful little squealing thing who sucked the life's blood out of me in more ways than one.

A few days later, I was off [most of] the drugs, healed enough to move around a little bit, but still not quite believing what had happened to me. Eventually I healed, physically and mentally... over the next couple of weeks I'd watch him watching me and peer into his eyes, and I started to get to know him and eventually, fall in love with him. And three years later, oh my god it pours out of me sometimes. I invent games whose entire purpose is to get him to give me hugs and kisses so I can just nuzzle his delicious little soul.

Nine months ago (two and a half years after Jared was born), I gave birth to Audrey. It was an entirely different pregnancy and an entirely different birth. As soon as she came out of me I felt an outpouring of warmth, like I'd known her for ages but only just met her for the first time (as if the womb is like a chat room).

At the same instant I had two distinct thoughts: "Hrm, she's kind of ugly"[7] and "OhmygodIlovehersomuchIcan'tbelieveit". Both of my children were explicitly planned, but the second time around I knew she was our last, so part of it was me just trying to etch every last minute into my brain. And going through parenthood with Jared the first time around had grown my heart plenty and taught me how to really really love.

And I knew that no matter how I felt that first day, love would continue to grow and grow, and not just the matrix of love between myself and each child, but between the kids and their dad, and especially between the two of them. At nine months old and three years, Jared watches out for "his baby"; when she cries he gives her hugs and kisses and pats her head and says "It's OK, Audrey.... It's OK." For her part, she follows him with her eyes everywhere he goes and since she started to crawl a while back she now will patter after him and try to play with his toys or even just reach out to touch him and giggle.

[1] True story[2]: when I was a kid, we used to have contests at school aimed to encourage kids to read more, if your parents signed a letter saying you read 30 books over the summer you'd get free shit and things of that nature. My parents, however, would YELL at me for reading too much because I would take a book to every dinner, every car ride, every family event and just stick my nose in it rather than socialize.
[2] Why do I feel the need to specifically call out that this is a true story? It makes no sense. But for some reason it just fits.
[3] It was just like those commercials... I had specifically purchased a butter dish, I peed on a stick and then put it in the butter dish and put a big timer on top of it and my husband and I clutched each other's hands and stared at the dish until the requisite number of minutes had passed, at which point I insisted that he lift up the dish because I just couldn't.[4]
[4] Just kidding. Actually I was 1500 miles away from my husband visiting my family, and spent the day shoveling shit[5] from a pile onto the garden. I woke up feeling sick as a dog in the middle of the night, and a lightbulb went off - "Maybe this is morning sickness!". I had a pregnancy test with me, so I took it... the second line was so faint that I had to wake up one of my sisters to fact check it for me.
[5] They call it "mulch" but *I* know what it really is.[6]
[6] When I needed to fertilize my garden a few years ago I went to the local home store to pick up some mulch... I was very amused that they had two styles: chicken shit and bull shit.
[7] She got real cute real fast though.

Comments

[moreena Tiede]

You've really nailed that ambivalence of the first time around. It's such an overwhelming and not-so-fun experience giving birth that I think feeling at a loss is pretty common. I know I had that feeling.

But, I also must add, that as much as I loved the entry itself, the footnotes below were alone worth the price of admission.

[Cynical Mom]

moreena: haha thanks =)

[Overwhelmed!]

This is such a great post. Very honest. More women need to read posts like these! Thanks for sharing.

By the way, I found your blog through a link on Mike's blog (Something About Parenting).

I'll be back to read more, I'm sure! :)

[lindaquarterly]

I love this post! Very eloquently captures my feelings about my kids as well. My 2nd, Max, is now 4 months old and my first is 3. When Max was born, they put him on my chest and he latched on within seconds. And I felt a bond that I didn't feel with Josh for weeks. Maybe because they whisked Josh away and I didn't see him for six hours after the birth. Now, between temper tantrums, I too relish hearing "It's OK, Maxy. It's OK" and offers to help wash his toes in the bathtub. Thanks for sharing....

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