For a long time I thought I didn't want to have kids. Kids did not fit very well into my Broadway dreams. Also, to have kids you generally have to have a significant other (well, not always, but in my vision of kids I did), and that search wasn't going so well. To top it all off, I wasn't sure I could really take care of myself, much less a kid.
Basically, kids weren't that glamorous and I wanted some serious glam in my future.
I was right about one thing.
Kids are not that glamorous.
You go into the hospital 50 pounds heavier than you were nine months ago and you leave the hospital with this tiny bundle that comes with no instruction manual and no return policy. And, by the way, you're still almost 50 pounds heavier than you were nine months ago. You wonder why the hell they're letting you leave the hospital without first checking that you at least know how to change a diaper or bathe the wriggly bundle. You wonder why they don't quiz you to make sure that you know what every little sigh and cry and sound mean. You wonder why you had to score near perfect on your SATs to get into the college of your choice but there is absolutely no requirement for taking this baby home other than at one time you knew how to have sex.
And they fail to warn you that sex as you knew it will change dramatically too.
You will get home and realize that babies are poopy and hungry and poopy and sleepy and poopy...and the words "poopy" "poop" "turd" and when it's really messy "shit" will enter your vocabulary way more than is acceptable in normal, or at least non-baby society. You will try to breast feed because that's what's best for the baby...but they don't tell you that maybe you won't be able to for whatever reason and you will struggle with overwhelming guilt for weeks before realizing that it doesn't matter where your baby's food is coming from as long as you are nourishing him.
And suddenly you will really be a mother.
As hard as the first year has been-and I've had my moments, believe me-I know that my friends and family were right. I was born to be a mom. I'm not claiming to be a perfect mother, but I am the perfect mother for Aidan. Life as Blake and I know it has changed dramatically. Gone are the Saturday morning sleep-ins and the spontaneous casino trips. I'm not gonna lie-I MISS THOSE THINGS. And no, it's not always worth it. At least in the short run. Like when your kid projectile vomits all over you in the parking lot of a Chick-fil-A after two of the biggest meals of his life. But when he curls up to sleep on your chest gripping your little finger, his lips curled in a little smile as he dreams, you will hear music swelling in your head as though you were in your own movie montage and all thoughts of vomit will (almost) be erased.
So, in short, this last year has been the hardest and best year of my life. I wish I had recorded more of the memories and thoughts I had as we went along, because it truly was happily that we went. This year I won't let that happen. After all, who doesn't love a good vomit story?
Stay tuned. I may even talk about poop.
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