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Growing up, I knew that I was made for motherhood. This fact, I believed, was asserted by the wide hips I had inherited from my German grandmother and by the extremely maternal way I treated my cats. Caring for a child, nurturing in him or her a love for the arts, giving myself to another human being was an endeavor I looked forward to with enthusiasm and blind confidence.
This new, shriveled, irate little person, my daughter Zoe, was indeed a far cry from even the most demanding Siamese, so my experiences mothering cats proved to be of little value. And yet, what could ever prepare you for the overwhelming role of "mother?" What I remember most from this period is the dizzying lack of sleep, and the ensuing sense of impending madness as I began to express most of my emotions by either laughing hysterically or sobbing. Almost every orifice on my body was covered by a sterile white pad, my breasts and abdomen were crisscrossed with the violent white slashes of stretch marks, and every time I glanced at my new daughter I felt devastatingly unworthy of her. When you're struggling to function fueled by only two consecutive hours of sleep, the sight of a miniature toe takes on heightened significance, and can easily prompt tears of both maternal pride and a staggering sense of responsibility. All mothers of newborns have experienced the same mind-numbing fatigue, uncertainty, and undeniable infatuation with their babies. But what happens next, when you finally settle into some semblance of a routine, dust the cobwebs off your pre-pregnancy clothes and venture out to your first playgroup meeting?
The copyright of the article Mom Vs. Mom: Calling a Truce! in Mothering is owned by . Permission to republish Mom Vs. Mom: Calling a Truce! in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.
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