As everyone who has raised a child probably already knows, it is full of wonderful moments that fill you with happiness -- the first smile, the way she turns to look at you when she hears your voice, the first time she notices the mobile, the stuffie, the cat.
There are other wonderful moments, too, that are more about relief than charm. Like right now, at 9:00 a.m., when the baby is just waking up after going to sleep around 11 last night. You have no idea how nice it to have 10 hours of not having to look after her needs. Or maybe you do.
I mean, I love this kid with all my heart, I really do. But it's exhausting. I have a friend who says that he remembers wondering, when he was a kid, why his parents were so tired all the time, but now that he has 2 kids, he totally gets it. Me too.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Friday, June 1, 2007
Blogging for LGBT families Day
It’s Blogging for LGBT families Day! Yay! To celebrate, I’m going to write about what it’s like to have a change in status – from Ordinary Adult Being to Parent.
Before the arrival of The Baby, my expectations of what this change would be like were vague, and probably a little negative. I would transform from Ordinary Adult Being to an existence that consists largely of drudgery – sleepless nights, diaper changing, constant feeding, always at the beck and call of a demanding little monster.
Now that The Baby is not just theoretical, my experience of parenthood is completely different. While I certainly have experienced sleepless nights, diaper changing, constant feeding, and always being at the beck and call of a demanding little monster, the other things far outweigh all of that stuff. Now, this is possibly because I am the mother of The Cutest Little Baby in the World, who at the age of three months sleeps through the night and pretty much just acts cute all day, but I was unprepared for the sheer beauty of this baby.
I feel like someone has given me a priceless work of art – one of Monet’s Water Lilies, or perhaps my very own symphony orchestra. From the moment she was born – a screaming little mass of indignation – I was overwhelmed by her beauty. It’s not just the adorableness of the ten little fingers and toes, or the perfection of the 20 little finger and toe nails, the sound of the tiny little voice, or even the softness of her precious baby skin.
What it is, I suppose, is the miracle of life and the pride of having made it ourselves. Us! We went to the sperm bank and got a big metal canister, month after month, and took it to the doctor’s office, and then one day there was a little peanut growing in Amy’s belly. Then it had a face and organs and a gender. Then I watched her emerge from Amy’s body. I still can’t believe that process actually works. But this miracle occurs, I’m told, about 300,000 times a day, and only my baby is so special, so gorgeous, so cute, and so wonderful. I guess that’s another part of the miracle.
So I believe that my change in status is definitely a move up in the world. I love being a parent. I love watching this little girl change and grow. I love all the attention – the people on the street who come up and coo, the co-workers who ask to see her picture, the boxes that still arrive daily at the door. She deserves all this attention, as she deserves everything we can give her and teach her. I love this little girl so much it’s hard to understand.
OK, so back to Blogging for LGBT families day. What does this post have to do with LGBT families? It sounds as if it could have been written by any parent*, and I guess that’s the point.
*well, except for the part about the big metal canister
Before the arrival of The Baby, my expectations of what this change would be like were vague, and probably a little negative. I would transform from Ordinary Adult Being to an existence that consists largely of drudgery – sleepless nights, diaper changing, constant feeding, always at the beck and call of a demanding little monster.
Now that The Baby is not just theoretical, my experience of parenthood is completely different. While I certainly have experienced sleepless nights, diaper changing, constant feeding, and always being at the beck and call of a demanding little monster, the other things far outweigh all of that stuff. Now, this is possibly because I am the mother of The Cutest Little Baby in the World, who at the age of three months sleeps through the night and pretty much just acts cute all day, but I was unprepared for the sheer beauty of this baby.
I feel like someone has given me a priceless work of art – one of Monet’s Water Lilies, or perhaps my very own symphony orchestra. From the moment she was born – a screaming little mass of indignation – I was overwhelmed by her beauty. It’s not just the adorableness of the ten little fingers and toes, or the perfection of the 20 little finger and toe nails, the sound of the tiny little voice, or even the softness of her precious baby skin.
What it is, I suppose, is the miracle of life and the pride of having made it ourselves. Us! We went to the sperm bank and got a big metal canister, month after month, and took it to the doctor’s office, and then one day there was a little peanut growing in Amy’s belly. Then it had a face and organs and a gender. Then I watched her emerge from Amy’s body. I still can’t believe that process actually works. But this miracle occurs, I’m told, about 300,000 times a day, and only my baby is so special, so gorgeous, so cute, and so wonderful. I guess that’s another part of the miracle.
So I believe that my change in status is definitely a move up in the world. I love being a parent. I love watching this little girl change and grow. I love all the attention – the people on the street who come up and coo, the co-workers who ask to see her picture, the boxes that still arrive daily at the door. She deserves all this attention, as she deserves everything we can give her and teach her. I love this little girl so much it’s hard to understand.
OK, so back to Blogging for LGBT families day. What does this post have to do with LGBT families? It sounds as if it could have been written by any parent*, and I guess that’s the point.
*well, except for the part about the big metal canister
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