late one night when q was three or four months old i sat down on our deeply uncomfortable couch and sobbed
exhaustion and failure overwhelmed me
it wasn’t postpartum depression
when he was awake i was thrilled
blissfully happy
but the moment he was laid down to sleep
i would take a look around at my life and shudder
i was possessed
there was a devil child in me that would only come out whenever i was not not distracted with my sweet q
i was thirty eight years old when q was born
it was for me the perfect age
however for too many years i had been forming an idea in my head of what my baby’s life would look like
there in the pages of books and magazines
there on the movie and tv screens was the cotton candy colored childhood of well loved children
and now it was there within me
this image of what love
looked
like
and i’m sure those children were well loved
but is being well loved the same thing as being happy
alongside of our culture’s idea of success was my own idea of what succeeding or even keeping up meant
for years i had my own business helping others live a beautiful life
and my own life was beautiful for it
i worked long hours happily
i could renovate three homes at one time
and plan 2 international vacations all while hosting a party or two on the same weekend
and still pay the bills on time (for my clients – if not for myself)
I managed by keeping a certain order in my house
dishes and clothes and books
everything had it’s place
if things got too out of control
then i knew i was somehow ‘losing it.’
it wasn’t enough to just do a job well
i had to be able to throw a party in an instant
my house had to be always ready for 40 people
and there was never one birthday cake
not ever just one
we must have three birthday cakes
homemade food
armloads of fresh flowers and live entertainment
and i had to look great too
honestly you should see what i looked like
and then q came
he was big
9 pounds 8 ounces and he gained weight immediately
i called three lactation specialists and they all agreed he was eating a lot
perhaps i hadn’t mastered the right hold
but then when they saw him
each just said ‘oh no, that child needs to eat, feed him as much as he wants.’
as much as he wanted was
all day and a fair bit of the night
he had cholic
he wasn’t so into strangers
once when he was about three months old
we left him sleeping in the care of a wonderful woman in her 60′s
who had a lot of baby experience
we walked down the street to a charming inn that overlooked the hudson river
we ordered our drinks
and an appetizer
to enjoy while we looked at the dinner menu
our cell phone rang before our waitress had a chance to take our order
and we walked back up the hill
we could hear him two blocks away
she had never heard a child cry that loudly or that frantically
she thought something might be wrong
and then i
picked him up
and he stopped
instantly
and she said
oh i am so sorry
but i was not
he needed me and that was my joy
but my house
which was not a house but an apartment over a store that we rented
that was not my joy
for the dishes were never ever done and the dust in the corners
actually the dust all over everything were a constant rebuke to me that i was somehow not doing ‘it’ right
not somehow caring for my child
for his environment well enough
our clothes never seemed to be washed
folded
and put away
there was no time
laundry baskets of clean clothes sat next to laundry baskets of dirty clothes
and sometimes we chose things from each basket to get dressed in the morning
papers piled up until reaching some sort of physical limit they began to slide down behind the desk
and me
well i looked like i had ten children running around not one little loud but lovely infant
and i cried
every night i went to sleep thinking i had somehow failed
how could i be working so hard and failing so often
until that night when something clicked
or broke
or left
too exhausted to go on existing
and on some wrinkled little piece of paper i wrote
my favorite day
by q
kisses all over from mom
and dad
a song in the morning
first thing
and at night before i fall asleep
a dance rock & roll
or a waltz doesn’t matter it all makes me laugh
a joke told well
my mom’s face smiling right at me
and my dad’s smiling too right in my eyes
gentle arms when i cry
soft voice when i wail
and two books each night
one an old favorite and the second something new
my success list
my new one
i had not realized until that moment
that i had been walking around with some crazed idea of what being successful meant
and none of it really had anything to do with
what it felt like to be a four month old infant with cholic
and from then on i made a point of doing every single thing on that list every day
and each night i went to sleep finally feeling like a success
after that night i still cried
and so did q who’s cholic would last until he was six or seven months old
but i never cried out of a feeling of failure
i cried from exhaustion
and unlike the old crying
this new crying felt good
for when it was over
i felt refreshed
no longer would laundry or whether it is clean
dishes or whether they are done
or dust and whether it is vanquished be a part of any idea of
what it means to be a success
from now on i would look to q
so come over
i’ll wipe off a chair for you before you sit down
and
we’ll share some cookies
and
sing some songs
and
laugh
and the children may have clothes on or may not
but they will for certain be dirty
and if you have time
while you are waiting for the second cup of coffee or round of drinks or slice of cake
you may pick up off the floor a wrinkled piece of paper
and you may write:
my favorite day
by ______
who may be 6 months or 2 years or 7
my favorite day
starts like this….
goes like this….
ends like this…..
That is so touching and so so true. I think most new Mums get to that “I failed” place, I just wish all of them got to see that they succeed every time their child laughs and is happy.
Love
Janet
janet – i love the word mum – it’s nicer than mom somehow and yet not so ‘young’ sounding as mommy it seems like a mom tells you to do your homework while a mum puts out cookies while you do it hope the month passes very very very quickly for you!!!!
Hi Kristine,
I’m not sure my teenager would agree with your comparison lol. Time seems to be playing tricks on me at the moment – not enough time during the school day to get things done, but dragging slowly at the same time!!
Love
Janet
xxx
ah the time warp good and bad and totally messes with your head
yes my comparison of mom and mum comes from no practical knowledge what so ever
you know i was born in harrigate in yorkshire and went back to visit my babysitter when i was nineteen and thought i was grown up ha!
but i have a lovely and i’m sure idealized idea in my head of england it’s all misty flower beds warm scones with devonshire cream and lemon curd
Now I’ve got the Time Warp song in my head lol
We are in the North of England so I’ve been to Harrogate quite a few times, I love Betty’s Teashop there, jam and cream scones to die for
I didn’t realise you were born there – It’s a Small World After All (and now that song is stuck in my head too!!!). Well if you ever come back over here, let me know and we could get together over tea and scones 
And then take the boys to MacD’s lol.
My view of your city is probably just as romantisied as your view of here – the grass is always greener and all that lol.
I’ll add this to the list of posts that help me imagine reality and not some dream of children. It sounds hard and it sounds wonderful all at once.
Beautiful post!
Thank you for letting us in on this and for reminding us what success is. Lovely, gorgeous words.
That is absolutely beautiful. I would like to link this post during Mother’s Day if you don’t mind. I have a few good friends that would enjoy reading this.
It’s funny how certain things in life that seem so important cease to matter when we are blessed with the love of a child. And, how all new things begin to matter.
This is so beautiful. It was so good that I knew I had to sleep on it and comment later. Your writing is lovely, I dig it.
I remember when my son was a little baby, every day when I put him to sleep (oh boy, was he a crazy sleeper), I would look back over the day and ask myself if I had done a good job. It was like a meditation in the beginning. Having a constant of awareness of being patient, handling each moment carefully, not giving into being so exhausted…..etc. I would say to myself each night, good job, no damage done, well-loved child so far. I’m glad it clicked for you and I get the whole thing about wiping off a chair for someone. In my house, it’s all about ‘make yourself at home,’ because, for real, visitors have to if they want be at home here, which is exactly what I want for them.
Christine
nothing in the beginning for me was like a meditation – did i mention i’m a bit of a control freak? i had to totally give that up at least try not to be that way quite so much
i love the line ‘good job, no damage done, well-loved child so far’ i did not have that perspective at the beginning at all! i’m happy exhaustion finally broke me down
I may just need to print this off and hang it on my fridge. Possibly one of the most beautiful blog posts I’ve ever read. Bravo.
Your description of success rings so true. I love the mornings where we have no agenda or nothing scheduled and we can just “do” and “be” and not worry about feeling guilty about the stack of dirty dishes or the ironing board that has been out for days with the same clothes waiting to be ironed. And it is free-ing for me to think of the children of my life’s work, my legacy. All of my success is focused on their success as happy, caring citizens of the world.
A lovely post. You truly are a gifted writer that easily welcomes in your readers. And, yes! I want to have cookies, sing songs, enjoy conversations over second cups of coffee as we watch the dirty children play. Sounds perfect!
This was incredibly beautiful, moving, touching, so much you.
I LOVED reading this post. loved it.
q is lucky.
Not sure how I stumbled upon your blog, and this post in particular, but I am SO glad I did. What a wonderful writer you are! And you’ve captured the feelings so perfectly of becoming a parent for the first time (as I did about 14 months ago, to a beautiful (now) 4 year old boy from Ethiopia). Thank you thank you…I look forward to reading more!
This blogpost must come with a warning that your child has to be within 4 feet of you when you’re done reading it so you can pounce and love, love, love on him or her. Oh, such beautiful words.