Might as well get used to it: Spilled milk #1

The concept of motherhood continues to mystify me. But so did the concept of bride-hood, wife-hood, PhD-hood, etc.

The other night, baby A woke up at 11:45pm first crying, then when I tried to get her the binky and then the water bottle, things turned ugly. It was a full-on, arching back, screeching like being tortured 10 minutes.

I tried to hold her upright.

No good.

I tried to rock her.

Are you kidding me?

I changed her diaper.

Nice to be dry, but not the main problem. Screeeeeeeeeam!

M came in with a bottle.

Again, no thanks.

And then, in a mirror to the previous night when I had gone in and repeated exactly what M had tried but I was successful, M took her.

He held her upright.

Sigh.

He layed down in the bed with her on his chest.

Deep sigh.

Grumbling under the breath (this one was me).

I hate when M can calm her when I can't. This is the part of motherhood that I'm still figuring out. I think I was raised to believe that being a mother is about being the most comforting person for your little person. That I'm the one she is supposed to want when she's sick, sad, woken up from a nightmare (one of our guesses about those two nights), upset. That some of what I get back for all the patience and calm, for the playing and loving, is pole position when it comes to soothing. My smell, my voice and my body are supposed to be the best at this.

But that isn't how it works with Baby A.

Turns out, M has the perfect touch for rocking her - no one else can anymore. And for getting her to nap on his chest - that flight from Amsterdam would have gotten a lot quieter sooner had his chest been there.

And just as I come to terms with having my body back, now it is rejected in a very intimate way. By the little being I want it to help soothe. (Note to self: eat more, and gain back that weight, because obviously the slimmer you doesn't make up for this). There may be nothing that will change this.

So I have to rethink mothering again. Maybe go back to what I learned when no body (not a single one) could soothe her best - that my job as a mother is to look out for her and make sure she gets what she most needs and what best calms her. It isn't necessarily to be that one who best calms her, but to search out those people and things and situations.

Because if I keep thinking I'm supposed to be her go-to, and it isn't working, I'm going to feel pretty hurt. I tell you what, babies are a huge lesson in not taking things personally.