Ever since March 30, 2013 at 12:56pm, our world completely changed. Ella, our first child, had entered the world and has been our little firecracker ever since. I remember having such a hard time in those first few weeks home from the hospital. One of the recurring questions in my mind, and often whispered out loud to myself was, “what the hell did I get myself into, how am I gonna do this??” I thought I was prepared. I truly believed that besides the typical sleepless nights that came with a newborn, everything else would be a piece of cake-at least that’s what those parenting books made it seem like.
Ella didn’t sleep more than a 4 hour stretch until she was about 10.5 months old, and didn’t take too kindly to naps. I was basically a mommy zombie-a mombie. There wasn’t enough coffee in Cuba to satisfy my caffeine needs at this point. ‘Oh please don’t let the sun go down for the witching hour is upon us’–honest to God, I’ve never been more terrified of a sunset in my life. In our household, 7pm was appropriately named, the ‘witching hour’. Ella, my sweet little baby, transformed into a screaming, inconsolable mess for hours on end–meaning I became a screaming, inconsolable mess. Looking back, those nights were a bit of a blur. I vaguely remember screaming at my husband at 3 am, probably because he didn’t hang the towel up after a shower the day before, and 3am seemed like the perfect time: we were up anyways and who else was there to yell at! I remember walking the living room for hours on end, wearing out the carpet, praying Ella would fall asleep before sunrise. And of course, there were those moments of me locking myself in the bathroom at 4am, crying, because I was just.so.tired–I became pretty good at that one. But, we got through it–4 hours at a time–nonetheless, we got through it. This went on for many months, eventually ending, allowing all of us to embrace sanity again–or what was left of it. Ella’s first year of life was hard, but it was so rewarding. Being able to witness all of her precious firsts; smiles, teeth, belly laughs, crawling, those wobbly first steps of freedom.
Year two has definitely been flying by, and everyday that passes, she never fails to amaze me. I look at her and cannot believe how much she has grown up, even taking on the role of a proud big sister! All the stuff she knows; the already massive vocabulary, putting sentences together, counting, drawing, potty training like a pro, bossing her new brother around. Her amazing ability to sift through a whole sentence that she may have overheard me or her dad (mostly him) say, and is able to repeat back that one curse word (again, her dad said it) that slipped out–genius! [note to readers: I don’t condone or encourage said toddler to use curse words. She is just smart enough to wait for them to come out and uses them for her own entertainment.]
I often catch myself just staring and smiling at her. Seeing who she has become, wondering who she will be. Her already constant need to entertain anyone that walks into the room is quite hilarious. Laughing herself into a coughing fit, her lack of patience for things, and outright stubbornness are all things I love so much. For someone so petite, she makes up for with a huge personality. I’m amazed and so grateful that I get to be her mom. Sure, she gave us a run for our money in those first few months, and let’s be honest, she still does. And since she reminds me so much of myself, she always will be a button pusher.
Despite all the hard days, the long days, and even the greatest of days, there’s something important I learned in being a first time mom to Ella. I never understood when everyone would say how rewarding having children can and will be. Thinking to myself, “yeah Ok, I won’t sleep for 10 years and I’ll be wiping butts for another 5, some reward!” -well that was before I had kids. In my short run of the parenting marathon, I realized just how right those people were. All the sleepless nights, the ‘witching hours’, skinned knees, and public tantrums. All those things no matter how bad, good or just plain ugly they may be are so rewarding-maybe not in that moment-but they definitely are. Because in those bad moments, we get to talk and try to teach them a better way. Because in those good moments, we can watch the fruit of our labor thrive, and use the skills we’ve taught them. Because in those ugly moments–and trust me, there will be plenty of ugly moments, hideous ones, in fact–we can cry right along side them knowing that tomorrow is a brand new day.
To me, a reward as a mom, is everything I just wrote. It’s the memories that we’ve already made. The good, the bad, and everything in between, they’ll always be ours to share. There’s a reward buried in each day, some days I may have to dig a little deeper to find it, but it’s always there–and all I have to do is look into her eyes.
Officially Outnumbered 