Some women claim that they truly feel motherhood when their baby looks at them for the first time; some say it’s when they feed the baby from their breast. But my fiancé says that I have truly been inducted into motherhood the day I started whining about the “yaya”. He’s right (Now, there’s a sentence you won’t see very often). Five minutes into bitching about how I can’t get good help to stay, I found myself wondering when I turned into my mother.
Your skin will not be as white as alabaster. Your lashes will not be long and lush. Your nose will not be upturned. You will not be reed thin…
It’s not always like that.
This seemed like an appropriate first photo collage after the delivery pictures. I don’t know if we were channeling Moses in this set of pictures. But I loved it. She looked so small and peaceful. There is no clue on how difficult this was for her and how many bottles of breast milk it took to calm her down.
Dear SwankChild…I don’t know why, but seeing you in these pictures makes me see why mothers would move heaven and earth to protect their offspring. You make me want to hide you from the world.
This precious angel turned two months today, I wanted to recall and document her growth in pictures. I wanted to make sure that her childhood was immortalized in the net in case my computer crashes an all my pictures are lost. I hope the people who read my blog enjoy this post. I know that after seeing this, you’ll understand why I can’t stop talking about her.
In the 80’s, I remember a commercial for baby powder [or an entire baby care line, I forget] where the mother saw her kid for the first time, and with tears in her eyes, felt the baby’s bottom and decided it needed powder; something like that. It had all the women awwing. It did nothing for me. In the 90’s, same baby powder showed another commercial where adorable babies were all happy because they had dry bottoms. I found it adorable. Did these ads make me want to go out and propagate? Did it make me want to pick up a child and change a diaper? Of course not. I don’t even use talc on my child despite all these ads. If it’s any consolation, I use it on myself. It seemed like there was nothing that could make me want to join the bandwagon of women who felt the urge to multiply. I mean, if the catchy phrase “bondying, cutie-pie, tabaching ching ching ching ching…” did nothing for me, what will, right?
It’s amazing how two weeks makes a world of difference in gestation. The gratification factor derived from pictures of the 26th week is multiplied exponentially when you look at pictures of the 28th week. By the 30th week, I was positively giddy at the thought of having another picture taken. The images were starting to incite a feeling of anticipation of the coming angel. I didn’t have textbook-image envy anymore.