A Mother’s Journal: The First Six Months

I’m a self-proclaimed turtle. Slow-mo New Mexico. There’s no such thing as a fast-paced New Mexican. A unicorn. A chupacabra. They just don’t exist (well maybe the chupacabra). So you can imagine what a change becoming a mom has been to my laid-back nature. It’s lit a fire directly below my posterior, propelling me into race-mode all day long—changing diapers, bathing the baby, dressing said baby, heating bottles for said baby, cleaning and sterilizing bottles, playing with baby, creating a toy circuit for baby (because baby gets bored…I had no idea), and now making baby food because baby is officially six months old.

Who would’ve thought that crying, smiling, sleeping, giggling, eating, and mumbling could go by so quickly? And the smarter and stronger she gets, the more I realize I’m falling apart. I wash my hair once a week. I live in my sweats. My highlights are now greylights. I don’t finish my sentences anymore. And I got in a fight with my best friend of 17 years (we’ve only had one other fight like this ten years ago).

Basically, it came down to both of us being tired—she’s a mom of two littles—and in the end, we realized we didn’t even know what the hell we were arguing about. I can say without a doubt that if I had Darlington in my twenties, I’d be just tired as I am today.

Which is interesting because everyone close to me knows I’ve really never been one for sleep, averaging four hours a night, even before Darlington was born. Close friends and family often receive texts, emails, and telepathic thoughts anywhere between 2:00 and 6:00 a.m. The difference now, though, is that being a mommy is emotionally exhausting. Sans the fight with the bestie, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You won’t get these years back,” my friend has told me on numerous occasions. And my goal through the tired-silly-frustrating-happy times is to be present. There will come a time when I can no longer bathe her in the sink, put silly outfits on her, bite her belly, stare at her for five minutes straight, hold her hand when she’s sleeping, or carry her around in my carrier. I’m told those things aren’t allowed in high school.

To put this all into perspective, I think of our friend who’s losing his battle with cancer, and I think of his two children. I think of our family member whose baby is undergoing clinical trials to save her life. So, I’ll put my vanity aside—the dark circles, grey hair, stretchy clothing, poor speech, and the occasional wetting of my pants (yes, that has happened)—and be damn grateful.

I pray every day, asking for God to heal and watch over others, but I forget gratitude. My resolution for 2016 is to take the same amount of time to speak the things that I’m grateful for.

Let me start by thanking all of you for being a part of this amazing new chapter! You lift me up more than you know!

So now I’ll leave you to take a gander at Darlington’s first 6 months on earth.