... that I arrived home, shuffling gingerly -- wincing up the stairs -- and carrying the weight of a sleepy 7 lb. newborn hooked in the crook of my right arm?
I will never forget those first few minutes, arriving home as a mother for the first time. The world seemed so different. The house hadn't changed and, yet, everything had changed.
I sat the infant carrier on the kitchen table -- newborn baby peacefully asleep inside -- and thought "Well, so...OK, you're here. Now what?"
Panic set in.
It occured to me that for 9 months I had planned meticulously for the birth -- obsessed over details, wondered what it would be like, studied any info. I could get my hands on -- but I had never thought beyond labor day.
The responsibility hit me like a truck -- dear God, I am responsible for keeping this thing alive. I am responsible for raising her right, teaching her the things she needs to know, and providing for her. (Well, my husband and I, but..you get the point).
Our first outing was to the mall where I stocked up on parenting books. I've always been the kind who is comforted by knowledge. The more I know about something, the less I fear it.
And, so I devoured parenting books, I subscribed to every parenting magazine, I joined on-line parenting discussion boards, and I made friends with lots of other mommies.
Now, 5 1/2 years later, I'm a more confident, virtually unflappable mother. But, I still have days when I'm not sure that what I'm doing is best, or that what I do even matters or the things I try to teach them are even getting through.
And, then I have days like this -- a day I took that once-tiny baby's hands and walked her through the doors of her "big girl" school and signed her up for Kindergarten -- and I realize that she's been listening and learning all along.
She walked right in the door, she told the woman at registration her name -- and then preceeded to tell her about her sister, Lauren, her guinea pig, Oreo and her dead dog, Cassie... That shy little girl I once knew is long gone. Seems Kelly has inherited my love of words -- spoken & written -- and my tendency to use FAR too many of them.
Dan & I were handed a packet of paperwork to fill out while the teachers took Kelly in the classroom to test her (vision, hearing, alphabet, writing, math skills, etc.). She bounded away from us, holding the teacher's hand, never looking back -- not the least bit apprehensive. Her long blonde curls swung back and forth and she giggled unabashedly with excitement. I was the one left behind, trying not to cry.
Afterward, we met one-on-one with the teacher who told us (forgive me for bragging) that Kelly has advanced Kindergarten skills and will have no trouble participating in class. She said she was amazed at how outgoing and talkative Kelly was and that her skill levels were impressive.
I beamed.
I breathed easier.
And I thought of that day -- 5 1/2 years ago -- when I was scared to death that I would mess this all up -- that I would fail her miserably. And, I realize that, all along, I had known much more than I thought I did.
