It's an emotive topic, all the firsts: sacrifices we make as moms.
But do you remember where you were the first time your munchkin smiled?
What about that first roll over, the first tooth and the first few steps?
Was it a video call while multitasking at work, or did your heart burst via a recorded video sent by “grandma” or “neny”?
Let’s recap - unicorn pregnancy, challenging postpartum and now maternity leave was up.
It was back to work, navigating a promotion and registering for my final year of university.
Tough choices
Unlike other modern moms, mine was still actively in the work force and having been a ‘grand orphan’ for at least 15 years, daycare was our best fit.
We chose the place that wasn’t necessarily the fanciest.
There weren’t the cameras and mommy log-in codes, but the care the babies received showed in how happy everyone was at pick up time.
In real time, despite having worked through the fog of postpartum depression, the guilt of not connecting in those first few months accompanied me on my first day back to the office when I trekked 45 minutes to university after work and the hour’s drive back home at the end of a long day.
Enough is enough
When the nursery closed for the day, my son spent his bedtime with a willing neighbour, bonding in the morning traffic to the nursery.
Maybe a month into the madness, a tiny voice whispered “enough”.
Was it my inner child tugging on my dress of Motherhood? Or was it me holding myself accountable for the life I knew I wanted to create?
Was it old wounds of abandonment gently throbbing so that I could break the cycle?
Making a choice
Whatever it was, I didn’t wait for it to shout.
A looming decision.
Interestingly, I didn’t feel the need to consult with anyone about what I knew felt right and what I knew I was going to do.
The thought of breaking that promise to myself to be there for my son meant I was at peace disappointing others.
You're so close
I distinctly remember the conversation with my mother when she learned of the break from my degree.
“You’re so close!” “Get it over and done with.”
She meant well, but she couldn’t feel what I felt.
She hadn’t been in my shoes (or worse, maybe she flirted with such a thing but it never came to pass).
Push through for what? To have a paper that said I could be hired and “paid better” when everyone around me was going back for their Master?
Ghost
It would have meant getting it “over and done with” at the end of his first birthday.
Too many firsts would have come and gone, celebrated by others and I’d have been a ghost, photoshopped into the crucial moments of his life.
I’m grateful for my stubbornness because it was that which allowed me to firmly plant my feet on the ground and say yes to me and yes to my son.
So, I was there the first time he sat up.
All the firsts
I was there for the three-day fever, hives and diarrhea that accompanied his first set of teeth.
I was there for the lazy crawl that turned into steps.
I was there for the first tumble after the steps.
I was there for the babble of sounds that became his first word; dada and not mama (linguistically, it’s easier to say dada first. My degree taught me that?)
Courage and confidence
I was there and continued to be there, fully present. No distractions of assignment deadlines and a time-consuming commute.
It was the first of many firsts, including the courage and confidence to construct the solid foundation I could only pray would take us into the rest of this challenging, scary and rewarding adventure we call parenting.
And if you missed any firsts, I hope you give yourself grace to create the ones that still live in your heart.
You got this!
