When I think about the people I love, I am filled with a fondness and
appreciation for them. I think about the experiences I've had with
them, their personality quirks that are endearing and some that are
less endearing, the ways we've been there for one another. Clearly,
love in this light is very history dependent and doesn't apply to
babies.
When I became a mother, I was dropped into this new status
with the arrival of a small squirming mini. The mini has no past beyond
her gestational wiggles. She doesn't have a discernable personality
other than hating change. And frankly, she doesn't have much to offer;
she's a giant ball of need. Nevertheless, I was shocked that I didn't 'love' in the
mini the moment I laid eyes on her. Isn't that the way things are
supposed to go; the baby pops out and you're in love? The mini popped
out and between being exhausted and the nurses taking her to get
checked on, I didn't even look at her for the better part of her first
hour. For the first couple weeks, I thought I was a really wacked out
mom
because I didn't feel warm fuzzies about the mini, particularly @ 2AM
in her "purple howler" form. I thought I didn't "love" the mini and
that was really weird/jacked/wrong.
Reflecting on the first couple weeks of new-momness, I have the old DC
talk song bouncing around that "Love is a verb." Love is attending to
these needs that the mini has, which are in fact fairly basic: 1) I am
hungry 2) I have soiled myself 3) I am uncomfortable gassy 4) I have a
mystery need. And we have been lovingly attending to the mini since she
was born. Whew. So maybe I did love the mini. It's the fondness and
appreciation that has taken longer to develop.
I'm happy to report that at about 2AM on Monday, the mini had finished
feeding and was asleep and I realized that I did delight in her. (Or perhaps so I thought in my early morning delirium.) She
was maybe 2 and a half weeks old, but that was apparently enough time
to develop some history between us. The mini has a wonderfully
expressive face, and we've been able to watch her morph her features
from bliss to despair, from
Stewie to Yoda. She doesn't have a whole
lot of personality, but we're enjoying what we've got.
I wonder if we actually love the people we delight in? In these early
weeks of parenthood, I've realized that my expectations of love are
really expectations of delight. While love and delight often go hand in
hand, if love truly is a verb, am I serving all those people that I
feel fondly about? Beyond my feelings, how do I actually care for
them?
Comments (3)
lol! What a peculiar observation. Though not unheard of...I remember a law school assistant dean referring to babies in this newborn period as "pet rocks" (and she's had three). I hear it gets better when they start developing personalities a few more months later. Anyway, thanks for sharing... definitely helps adjust expectations!
oh i like this post.
As one person you might feel fondly towards, you sure are wonderful at actively caring for me, Andrea. The only people who send me mail in TZ after all these years are you and an elderly, house-bound lady at my parents' church. When the saints go marching in, you and Barbara will be in that number!