In two weeks time we will be celebrating her first birthday. One year. A whole trip around the sun. Wow!
My mom just reminded me about how panicked I was in those early days with our newborn. She often had to stop by before work because “I have never heard her cry like this, mom, something is wrong!” And it was just wind.
We landed up at the ER because of my “gut feel”. It was just wind. The doctor, a good natured fellow, told me not to feel bad: “Better safe than sorry”. That’s the night I called nana. I finally realised we needed a village to raise this child and that we need not go it alone.
It was a time fraught with anxiety. I think that’s when my fear of and for her started taking root. I’d be nursing her, waiting for the almighty lightning bolt of love. Dololo. Breastfeeding in those early days was very painful. I am still waiting to experience that “magical” feeling all the crunchy moms were going on about.
Looking back, I’m so glad its over. I do not miss those frightening first few months – not one bit! The birth of this mother was – is – a painful process. It’s like I have been broken down completely and am slowly being rebuilt. I do not recognise the old Candice – that pre-natal, whimsical idealist.
My depression humbled me. I don’t take myself as seriously. I’m softer. Calmer. Less anxious. It was all a part of my rebirthing as a mother. And I don’t think God is done with me yet.
Little anecdote about baby, that inspired the headline. When you play her music off her toy piano, she sits on the mat and kicks her feet. Her version of dancing. So cute. So wonderful to be able to witness her blossom from this tiny, vulnerable newborn into a strong-willed little madam, so eager to discover the world.
Actually, if I had to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing!