A Change of Perspective
The day I gave birth to my son – and honestly, not a second sooner – my perspective changed on nearly every aspect of my life. That little boy, when he was placed on my chest for the very first time, changed my life.
While motherhood is by far the hardest challenge I’ve faced, it’s easily the most worth it. When I became a mother, I cemented the definition of my self identity. Not wanting to entirely lose my sense of individuality to this tiny human being and the new roles and responsibility he presented, I opened my mindset to acknowledge and accept a new perspective and ideology of life and how I wanted to live. Being someone who struggles with depression, while pregnant I worried about the continuing battle I knew I would still have to fight with my mental health. I didn’t want to expose my child to the ominous cloud that hovered over me, and at times, completely smothered me. I didn’t want to return to work to come home on a daily basis stressed, anxious, depressed or any of the many negative emotions I felt I experienced on a regular basis. I didn’t want my personal relationships to suffer any with the added responsibility and abrupt transition of our day-to-day routines.
I guess to say “when he was placed on my chest, [he] changed my life,” is a minor exaggeration. Truth is, the first few weeks having that little boy home, I cried more than I ever cried before. Sleepless nights kept me exhausted and on edge. My body, both internally and externally, was trying to revert back to its normal, pre-pregnancy state while also still having to provide nutrients to a milk-sucking machine. That’s not to mention the cliché baby factors – spit up on a fresh, clean shirt; a diaper explosion that you weren’t prepared for; a public meltdown that even a favorite toy can’t come close to taming.
Like I said, motherhood is hard.
But for the first time in a decade, I felt weightless. I felt full of meaning and purpose. Middle of the night wake up calls weren’t a bother to me. I had this tiny baby in my arms and I stared at him the same way he stared back up at me – like I was the only one he saw. In those first weeks, I’m sure all that made sense to him was his Mom and Dad, while we were learning to make sense of it all.
Upon my return to work, coworkers noticed a change too. My attitude about work matured. The fear, and anxiety I held onto for years while being required to complete tasks that I felt unqualified for, was no longer a factor. Conflict, criticism, and confrontation ceased to be a representation of a miserable day. Most importantly, work kept itself separate from home.
The powerful feeling of pure love and admiration that races through my veins each and every time I look at my son, opened my mind to analyze my own parents love and sacrifice for their kids. Seeing your parents relish in the joy of having a baby around – their grandbaby – is astonishingly beautiful. Knowing what a parent goes through, especially in those early years, gave me a new appreciation and respect for my parents. To witness them with my son – to see and feel the love they have for him – only solidifies the extraordinary job they did when they were new parents.
As my little boy grows into a rambunctious, hilarious, full-of-life little man, the love I have for him hasn’t changed. It’s only grown deeper. Looking over my shoulder to smile at him in the car; getting his tired grin back is one of the favorite parts of everyday.
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