being a mom

I love it when my baby's face lights up when I talk to her. She breaks out in a huge smile and that dimple in her left cheek appears, and she makes what passes as a laugh for her right now--a sharp, low intake of breath followed by sounds like "goo" or "ga" (only not that pronounced). Already I am dreading the day when my face or words don't have that effect on her.

It hurts when I see tears on her cheeks. Those few times when I can't figure out what's wrong, those times when she just keeps crying, are the hardest. Not because she's loud (and she is), but because I want to take her tears away.

It hurts in another way when she's overtired and refuses to eat, even if I know she needs to. Because I'm breastfeeding, that's when it feels like rejection. I reason with myself at those times and just try to comfort her until she falls asleep, but I can't help feeling a bit helpless--I can't provide my baby with everything she needs.

It's mystifying that Bridget's hands and fingernails can get so dirty when she doesn't even play with toys yet. How does this happen? I bathe her and myself and even my husband puts on clean t-shirts before he holds her. I wash her sheets and blankets and clothes. And yet, her hands and fingernails get dirty.

It's amusing, and a bit disgusting, that in the past three days Bridget has started to drool incessantly. Yesterday I caught Al ignoring a six-inch long string of drool hanging from her chin (he was fast-forwarding through a bad movie we rented from Netflix). She reminded me of my dog when she's watching me eat something she finds particularly enticing. Even when it's not a string of drool hanging, Bridget somehow manages to soak her chin and clothes with saliva. No wonder Carolyn (my aunt) won't let babies kiss her. Guess that tiny grace period for you is up, little girl. Carolyn probably won't get near your face again until you're about twelve.

Smiles, tears, tiredness, dirty hands and fingernails, and drool--it's all worth it and I'll take it all. I love being a mom and dearly miss my own.