Poppy Mom

A year

One year ago today, you entered the world, and it was nothing like I ever expected. Your arrival showed me that I have strength I never imagined, even though I have never felt so weak and helpless. When things were bad in those first weeks, I would remind myself that we had shared the most traumatic events of our lives. Just you and me, and I knew that's how it will be from now on. No matter what, how good or how bad, it will be you and me.

We have a lullaby CD that we have played since you were born. There's a minor-key, rather dark version of "All the Pretty Horses" about halfway through. At one point during your first month I was holding you, scared out of my wits, listening to the soothing darkness of that song, and thinking how those deep notes perfectly captured that time in our lives. I remember so little of that first month, being trapped in a haze of bewilderment and fear, feeling like there was no way I could be the mother you deserved. That song still reminds me of that darkness, but also of holding your tiny body and how you trusted that I would do right, even though I didn't trust myself.

By April, when I thought this disease that had overtaken my mind should have been gone, it was raging, dictating my life and yours. I was terrified to be home alone with you, so scared that something would go wrong, I would freeze and I wouldn't be able to do whatever I needed to do. So we drove. We would leave the house early in the morning. You sat in your carseat on the counter of the diner for hours on end, while I drank cup after cup of coffee, making nervous small talk with the retired old men who were also fixtures at the counter. Some days, we would be away from home from 7 a.m. until 6 p.m. And you didn't fuss. Didn't scream. You just patiently tolerated my sickness.

May brought your first big road trip - to Detroit, of all places. And you loved it. Loved being in the truck. Loved meeting all those new people, being the center of attention. And again I had to wonder, how could I have gotten so lucky? I don't deserve such a perfect little girl. I don't even deserve an awful little girl, so how did I get so lucky?

By June ... I don't even remember June. There are entire months of my life that are gone from my memory. I do remember this photo. We spent the day at the botanical gardens with Mimi and Paw Paw. You loved the flowers and the warm breeze on your skin. We stripped you down to your diaper and took turns cuddling you in the summer sun while you giggled.

At the beginning of July I did something so stupid. I caused an accident with you in the truck. We were fine, but it was just a reminder of the magnitude of what I've been trusted to protect. I've been trusted with you. You. I've never cared much about my own well-being and safety, but all of a sudden I'm entrusted with another life. And once again, I'm left wondering why me. I've never gotten anything right in my life. How am I ever going to do right by you?

Of course, I occasionally felt like maybe I might have a clue regarding this motherhood business. I knew how to have fun with you. I knew how to make you laugh. That counts for something, right? And we made it to the half-year point!

Being the big half-year-old that you spent lots of time with Mimi and Paw Paw. The two of us road tripped to their place - without Daddy. You spent the weekend with them while Daddy and I went away for our wedding anniversary. And again, you were happy and content, moving through your life with the uncanny knowledge that so many people love you and will do their best for you, even if they're not quite sure what their best is.

When October rolled around, I didn't know what to expect with my birthday. I hate my birthday, but looked forward to it with you. And you didn't disappoint. You woke up late in the night, ready to play. I sat you on the couch with Chloe and you squealed with delight. How can a day possibly be bad when it ends with that smile?

Your first holidays. I'd finally started feeling like I might be able to handle this motherhood business. You were thriving. We were bonding. And I was ready to celebrate. But by the end of the month, I once again found myself sick.

In time for Christmas, I got a gift for both of us. I started getting treatment for this condition that's ruled my life for your entire life. I started seeing the way to being the mother I want to be, the mother you deserve. And I got to read "The Night Before Christmas" to you for the first time.

I never wanted to be a mother, until I was told that I probably wouldn't be able to be one. Once I became a mother, I didn't think there was any way I could do it right. I'm learning. I'm learning to do something that I thought I was incapable of doing. I'm learning to be the person that we both deserve me to be.

I've learned more in the past year than I've learned in all my years combined. But there's one thing I didn't learn. I didn't learn to love you. I knew how to do that all along.

Happy birthday Clara Jane.

Posted by Robin at February 15, 2005 12:06 AM | TrackBack