at 9:21 a.m. I gave birth to my dd. My one and only. After four excruciating hours of pushing she was finally pulled from me. I swear she was hanging onto a bottom rib or something. Stubborn and unyielding. She hasn't changed a bit.
I haven't changed much either. I'm still pushing. For eight years I've watched her grow. I look at her baby pictures and I don't recognize her. For eight years I put my life on hold. Gladly. I admit I used my baby to withdraw at times. I tried to join some of the local mom groups but found most to be filled with sequacious, exhausted mothers just going through the motions so their kids would have a social life. Honestly, does a two year old really care? Does the mother get any social relief listening to someone else go on and on about another baby's croup? And every time we'd come away with another germ that would manifest itself in gallons of snot. No thank you.
So I withdrew from real life and immersed myself in the cyberspace diaper boards. We all know how that turned out. And now...here we are. What now?
Every day my dd grows a little more independent (except for the cleaning up after herself part, of course). I can't define myself as a stay at home mom anymore. I'm not sure of my role. Housekeeper? Hah!
What now?
My 2023 Christopher Pike Challenge
1 year ago
1 comments:
Ah, the redefinition of a mother. Hard stuff, that. You are Susan. You are good at just that. I promise.
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