I'm Not a Sappy Mom

I’m going to tell you now, that I am not one of those sappy Mothers who goes on and on about her child/children and how she can’t bear to be without him/her/them.  My conversations were and are never filled with story after story about my son, his daily activities, etc.

I remember once, a long time ago, a fellow new Mother was telling me of how she and her husband had gone out for a date night, with the promise of reconnecting and being a couple, and somehow, the conversation always turned back to their angelic child.  She further mentioned that she missed her child and couldn’t wait to get home, she adored her so much and isn’t that sweet?

Good Lord.  You’re telling me you can’t spend three hours away from a kid who has been attached to your body in one way or another for the past year, and will still be attached, pretty much, until the day you die?  Please.

Now, I know that I’m going to come across as cold and unfeeling towards my darling boy, but I tend to define it as being “realistic” and “honest with myself” in regard to the whole Motherhood thing.

My first real moment of “honesty” came in the hospital, as I was preparing for the birthing experience, yet not in full labor; thus, I was able to surf through some of the channels on the hospital television in relative comfort.

One of the channels was a hospital sponsored channel, and showed streaming video on how to care for your newborn, how to breastfeed, changes in your body, etc.  The episode, at the time, was on breastfeeding, and the first glimpse upon switching to this channel, was of a gargantuan nipple.

I didn’t even know what it was, at first.

Motherhood and Birthdays..

Well, I had planned on waiting until Mid-May to post on the whole “Motherhood” topic, but, since it’s my birthday today, and I’m feeling a little pensive, this is what we’re starting with.

It’s interesting, how, after you become a mother, birthdays take on a newer significance.  Before Spenser was born, apart from my own, birthdays were just birthdays.  After he was born, I started looking at them as rather “shared” days… that is, between Mother and Child.  The thing is, the word here is “birth”day, and, while the child is welcomed into the world with great gusto, his first day was brought about because of the Mother and all of her efforts.  She gets congratulated on that one day, and that’s about it.

I am guessing that every Mother, on her child’s birthday, thinks back to that original day, when her little one was brought forth into the world.  She thinks about her pregnancy, her labor and delivery, and how the days/months/years have passed since that original day.

On my birthday, I have cause to think about this particular day in my history, and it is filled with many thoughts and wonderings, since it is a day of which I have never heard “the story.”

I happen to be adopted.