Each January I look back on those first few months with our new baby, and I’m thankful they are in the past. No doubt this sounds heartless to some, especially to those who are not yet parents but hope to be.
It doesn’t mean I don’t love and appreciate her. Our daughter is, and has always been, a profound blessing. All my life I had known that I wanted a child, and she was the realization of that long-held dream. She was an amazing, wiry little creature with a remarkable energy. Our first ultra-sound image had shown her upside-down and scissor-kicking, so we weren’t surprised. She did leg lifts in her plastic hospital bassinet and held her head up unsupported within hours of birth. Her enormous, other-worldly blue eyes were constantly surveying her surroundings. She wrinkled her forehead in a way that made her look all-knowing and smug, yet sweet. Her blonde hair was as fine as dandelion fuzz, and her tiny fingernails appeared newly manicured. She slept with her arms outstretched over her head, her fingers moving gracefully and expressively in her dreams. She was a miracle.
The first day home with her was wonderful. When we returned from the hospital, my parents were waiting in their car in front of our townhouse, having driven all night from Atlanta. My husband and I were the proudest of parents, showing off our beautiful baby to her grandparents, who agreed that she was perfect. She slept for several hours that day, which, we would learn, would be highly uncharacteristic.
I had dozed only fitfully in the hospital, and I finally got some real sleep that first night at home. I slept deeply enough so that when I awakened to an unpleasant whining sound, I had no idea what it was. Puzzled and annoyed, I asked H, “What is that noise?”
“It’s our baby,” he replied, rather too firmly.
That was the last time I failed to recognize our daughter’s cry.
After that I began sleeping the half-sleep of the new mother, alert both to the baby’s sounds and, even more alarming, to the lack thereof. One night, hearing only silence, I peered into the bassinet in the dimness of the room. Suddenly I realized those big eyes were staring back at me, and I almost jumped. Our daughter was still an alien presence.
The difficulties of early motherhood set in with a vengeance. I loved my baby instantly, but getting used to dealing with her persistent and shifting needs was an exhausting challenge.
