Showering is Overrated

 I feel ya, kid.

So we're almost two weeks in, and it's already been one wild ride. To invoke a terrible cliche, it really has been a roller coaster. One minute I'm rising to the occasion, bravely taking Violet out in the car for the first time or not freaking out when I wake to find her bed soaked in spit-up (okay, not freaking out too much). The next minute, I'm plunging downward, tears leaking uncontrollably out of the corner of my eyes while I try to insist that I'm fine, really, I'm not at all freaked out by the prospect of being left alone with the baby for hours on end, day after day as Matt goes back to work. (Never mind taking it day by day, I'm on an hour by hour basis.) And the worst part is, I have no idea which mood is about to strike. It's like riding that proverbial roller coaster in the dark, no idea which direction I'll be lurched in next, my head snapping wildly in random directions. This is undoubtedly the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I was in no way or shape prepared for it. And I'm not used to that. I like being in control. I like being good at things. In fact, if I think I won't be good at something, I generally just don't do it. Why set myself up for failure, you know. I hate constantly feeling unsure about myself.

For example, today. A beautiful Saturday. Matt is home, we're without visitors for one of the first times since Violet's arrival. Things should be great. I feed her and afterward Violet does what she does best - she falls asleep in my arms. But I really need a shower and Matt is taking the opportunity to get some yard work done. No biggie, I'll just put her down in her pack n' play. She fusses for a second, but seems to calm as I hover over her. Feeling good about things, I head to the bathroom to start the water. Violet senses my departure and expresses her displeasure. I come back; she calms. I try hiding behind the bathroom door, still watching. No problem. But then I turn my back and somehow, that little stinker knows! She cries again! This is how Matt finds us, probably a good wasted ten minutes later, a slumbering baby in bed, a crazy wife hiding behind the bathroom door, afraid to move. Me still no closer to actually getting in the shower. And all I can think of is - how on earth are we going to manage when he's off at work all day? When he's not here to rescue me and pick her up so I can shower with some relative peace of mind? Suddenly hour by hour goes out the window and all I can see is days, weeks, months of this. I find myself longing for the time when Violet will be potty trained, know how to read and able to communicate her needs in eloquent English. People keep giving us the inane advice to "enjoy every minute" when all I'm trying to do is survive every minute!

Then I remember something I read the other day in The Girlfriends' Guide to Surviving the First Year of Motherhood (a book I will be gifting to every one of my pals who become pregnant). I plan to read it to myself often. Perhaps even laminate it and post it in the shower, provided I ever make it in there.

"Take a deep breath... You are going to be magnificent. Your baby is going to think you are the center of the universe. You're a hero. You'll do what's best as often as anybody else does (and any gaps you leave eventually will be filled in by your child's therapist). YOU ARE SOMEONE'S MOTHER!!!"

And that's it, I suppose. I'll do my best. Just like everyone else does. And eventually I'll figure out this thing called motherhood. And while I do, the baby won't break. She'll be fine, she's figuring things out too. We'll get there together. And in the meantime, I'll start saving for those therapy bills.

 

Heading out to the pediatrician for Violet's one-week check up. I had to write her name for the first time when we checked in - amazing.