Ana is a mild mannered federal government employee by day and blogs at http://mammagiraffe.blogspot.com/ by night. She is a Supermom 24 hours a day to her wonderful 17 month old daughter.
It took a lot longer to feel like a mother than I expected it would. I certainly didn’t feel like a mother when we came home from the hospital. My daughter was such a sleepy baby that no matter what I did I couldn’t get her nurse. The lactation consultant at the hospital told me to undress her and dab a wet washcloth on her feet to wake her up. While that made her mad enough to wake up and latch on, as soon as she started to nurse she would drift back into fetal sleep. In fact, the whole nursing experience (the pumps, the mastitis, the sleep deprivation), which I had expected to be the bridge that would bring me into motherhood, did just the opposite. Weaning after 8 weeks allowed me to finally beat the painful recurrent mastitis, find pleasure in being close to my baby, and start to get my mommy mojo.
Once I could hold my baby close to me without flinching in pain I became obsessed with baby wearing. Looking down and seeing my tiny daughter’s round cheeks poking out of a Moby wrap made me feel like I was connected to the soul of the universe. I also became the master at “The Mommy Dance” – the crazy bouncy, swinging, waltz that was the only thing that would calm my hysterically screaming daughter during those “witching hour” evenings.
However, it wasn’t until close to my daughter’s first birthday that something clicked and I felt like my brain had really been rewired from 30 year old working professional to Mommy, and what made me realize it was, of all things, whole milk. From the time my daughter was born no major decisions were made without our pediatrician’s blessing. She told us what brand of formula to use, when to start solid foods, and even what kind of sunscreen to buy. But something about switching to whole milk made me realize that our daughter was not a myserious little being with unknowable ways and incomprehensible needs. She was a little person. A little person who I knew and had known since before she was born. And I was her mom and knew what was best for her. And I even realized that I had known all along what was best for her, better than the lactation consultants during our failed breastfeeding days, and sometimes, better than the pediatrician. So, I switched her to whole milk and I didn’t call the pediatrician about it. I knew how to do it, because I was, and always will be, her mom.