So I was kind of thrown in to motherhood. I don't regret it at ALL, but there are times when I go, oh my gosh...I'm a mom. I assume this is true for mothers who have given birth as well.
There are times when I get accused of being less than a real mom because I didn't carry my daughter. For example, the woman who told me I loved Bug in my own way. What way is that?
There are times when I sometimes go, oh my GOD, what did I get myself into? Like when my friends are going out and I can't because I have a daughter now and no one to watch her.
And yes, there are even times when I sometimes catch myself thinking of what I could be doing if I HADN'T jumped in head first. These moments are usually fleeting, and I realize that nothing could be more wonderful than Bug in my life.
And then. There are moments when I just feel so utterly unprepared for this! HOW can I be a mother? I don't know what I'm doing! Who would allow this?
Like, for example, when I am sitting downstairs uploading pictures of Bug's birthday for family to see, and I hear her moving upstairs. At 10.30 pm. All prepared for a fight, I march upstairs to tell her to get her butt right back in bed, when halfway up the stairs I realize she's crying. Now I start running. WHY is my baby crying at 10.30 at night? I get there and it seems she's had a nightmare - she heard a monster. Not thinking anything of the smell in the room, or the fact that she is no longer in her pjs, I assure her there are no monsters as I lay her back in bed and sit next to her to keep calming.
But when I sit, it squishes.
Because she actually woke up to throw up all.over.her.bed. and while trying to clean up *(hence the lack of pajamas)*, she heard something outside and the combination of not feeling good and the dark and being upset made her very scared.
What do I do?
She's thrown up a few more times, she's been bathed, I'm on my second load of dirty clothes/sheets/couch covers, and she's now sitting watching a Mary Kate and Ashley movie, sucking on a Grandpa Ricky medicine *(Luden's cough drops. My father has her convinced they fix everything. I'm going with it.)*. She has a cup of water, she says she feels better - despite a few runs to the toilet.
What do I do?
How do I make her feel better?
For now, the Grandpa Ricky medicine, the movie, and the promise of cuddling all night and tomorrow *(because clearly she can't go to school and I can't go to work)* seem to be working.
I'm just not sure it's enough.