So as a new mother, one of the dawning uncomfortable realizations I have had is this: while my son now smiles infectiously at me when he wakes up from a nap and I am there, or when I walk into a room and he looks up from his toys and sees me, at some foreseeable point in his life his skin may actually crawl when he is in the same room with me. I most likely will embarrass him if not outright offend him. Can this really be true?
Yesterday this idea became downright shockingly real to me as my husband and I took a walk down the street we live on and talked about our own relationships with our parents. "Interesting" might be a good public way to describe them. At times very supportive and loving, at other times somewhat estranged, often very electric on one end of the continuum or other. I said to Matthew, "Surely not everyone has such eventful relationships with their parents, surely there are people who enjoy a relationship that tends more toward the middle?" He first said that he thought that is rare. When I started to argue with him, he laughed and asked me to "Name some people, no in fact name just one person [who has a relatively smooth time relating to their parents]." I fell silent as I quickly inventoried my friends and co-workers. A heavier silence fell on me like a large tree limb when I couldn't think of anyone. Not one person.
I recovered quickly and tried to walk the perimeter of the issue and create an exception for us. "Maybe that's because most people have their children when they are younger, in their 20s, so they don't really know themselves all that well, so when kids come along everyone in the picture is growing up and into themselves at the same time? Maybe because we are older new parents we have more identity stability and can let our child's identity be his own? Not get so enmeshed?" Even as I floated this, I realized it was against probability. Not get enmeshed in your children's lives? And we're just all done growing our identities at 37 and 41 years of age, are we?
In the first few months that Noah was with us, it hit me hard one day that he would not remember these days. These blissful first months of his life. We have not been sleep-deprived, and he has not been colicky. He has not been sick, not even with a runny nose. It's been absolutely joyous. My journal chronicles the fun of bathtime, the long days of napping and nursing, laughing back and forth at each other, him discovering his hands, babbling, learning baby sign language, and just last week getting his toes into his mouth for the first time. These six months have been the best of my life, and yet these times are not shared memories that Noah and I will reminisce about together when he is older. This reality is harsh.
I said to Matthew last night with no small amount of despair in my voice, "I didn't really start getting angry at my mother until I was in my 30s, so maybe by the time Noah has problems with me I'll be dead." My husband is very patient with me, and said nothing.
This morning, the sun rose and I woke thinking of a close friend who has a good relationship with her parents. I've known them all for many years, and they have not had any negatively dramatic episodes to the best of my knowledge. They live nearby each other, and talk or get together regularly. This made me feel much better, because with one example there must be others. Of course there is hope for me.
I also suddenly remembered that my dear son is not the only one changing and growing around here. Someone said to me last spring that the nine months of pregnancy are not just for making a baby, they're also for making the parents. And these first months of Noah's life have not just been full of his firsts, they are mine as well. So for now, I am this kind of mother to him, raising this young creature who would certainly perish in short order if I did not care for all of his needs - feeding, clothing, diapering, holding. And while his body grows I can see and appreciate that trust and security is also blossoming inside him. Later, I will still be the person who did these things for him. In addition, I will most likely be someone new - including, hopefully, the mother he will need then. I can only hope that I will show up in those moments, for him and for myself, like I am now.
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