Will You Be There.....

Will You Be There…….

I remember asking my doctor about having kids, to be clear, I remember specifically asking “how do I know if I can get pregnant”? She smiled and laughed and told me to “have fun trying”. We were lucky as it didn’t take long for Noah to arrive and then a little over two years later Rachel joined her brother.

I remember the three of us leaving the hospital back in October of 2000, me riding in the back seat staring at Noah. I had loved being pregnant with both kids, I thought it was so cool that a baby was growing inside of my belly. I loved saying that my body wasn’t mine for the next 9 months and all I wanted was a healthy baby with 10 fingers and 10 toes. I felt so strong when I was pregnant even when I felt so tired and just wanted to put both of my feet up. I kept going, kept working, kept doing. I didn’t know any other way.

I remember telling my dad that I was pregnant with Noah, I don’t think I looked him straight in the eyes for fear he would realize the news wasn’t due to immaculate conception!

He thanked me both times for great planning as Noah was born in October and Rachel in November and I wouldn’t be on maternity leave for the entire tax season, just the beginning:)

The drive home from the hospital didn’t get underway until the sun went down, and I remember how dark it was while we made our way to our apartment in the city. It was just the three of us as we walked in the door, no nurse, no parents and really no idea what we had just gotten ourselves into. All of those books that attempt to prepare you for parenthood seemed like a distant memory. This was on the job training at its finest.

It seemed like seconds before all hell broke loose, Noah was crying, he needed to be fed and needed a diaper change. The trifecta all within what seemed like minutes of us walking in the door. It was like the blind leading the blind and we were just hanging on doing our best to survive the first 24 hours of being parents. I vividly remember calling the nurses station at the hospital, crying and begging them to tell me what they did to stop Noah from crying. Did they wave a magic wand? Show tunes? Please, I begged don’t keep it a secret and tell me what the heck did I need to do?

I called two of my friends who lived close by while I sat on the front stoop, crying and laughing as I shared my story of the frantic phone call to the hospital. I knew it would all be okay, eventually. We were new parents and needed to go thru the unspoken initiation just like everyone else. I still joke that no one ever died (not that I know) from parenting. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger right? Well I’m here to tell you that I’m pretty damn strong!

I think I was an okay mom, going thru each day changing diapers, feeding and clothing both kiddos while they were young. I’d drop them off at the sitters, work a full day, pick them up and go home. It seemed alright, I did love the middle of the night feedings. I remember rocking with Noah while we lived in the city. It would be 2 or 3 in the morning and it was just us, rocking away. He slept in my arms and I would stare in delight at his precious face, cute hands and feet. He smelled so delicious and I loved loving him. I felt the same with Rachel, this time we were in the suburbs and I would rock with her in the living room with the same wonder. It was exhausting, yet I felt so blessed and grateful to be their mom.

It wasn’t a reciprocal relationship yet although it may have looked like that from afar. These little people depended on both of us. They showed their love by crying, screaming, melting down in the middle of the park or store or anywhere they pleased when they were little. They also showed love by blowing kisses, hugging us, and sometimes just throwing things at us. They were doing what little people do and we did what parents do and soothed them, or at least tried.

Sometimes it was an epic fail and that’s just the way it was. I knew they weren't going to be any more or less screwed up than anyone else on the block.

I’ve never not wanted to be a mom since I became one over 18 years ago. I’m an open book and speak the truth about my own personal struggles and parenting is no different. Being a single full-time working mom is no cake walk, but I have grown and gained more perspective over the past 15 years then I could ever imagine. I have come to truly love being a mom over the past few years as I have watched my kids evolve and develop their strong personality all while maintaining their old soul spirit and tender heart.

I understand what it means to be Noah’s mom and Rachel’s mom. It’s not from posting pictures or sharing silly stories, it’s not about them reaching milestones like no longer sucking a binky, or wearing diapers. It’s more than getting a driver’s permit, driver’s license or getting an award. For me, it’s about being there, being present. It’s about going to the ends of the earth and using my resources when they need support. It’s about staying home sitting on the couch when they need company but don’t want to talk. It’s about never hanging up without saying I love you and meaning it. It’s about crying your eyes out when you’re not sure if you made the right decision. It’s about letting them know I’m human but am strong enough to go on because that’s what I do.

I love being a mom, I love being Noah’s mom and love being Rachel’s mom. They have taught me how to be a better mom as they each need something different but ultimately, they both need and want to be loved and know that they matter, no matter what.

Take care my friends,
Xoxo, Jennifer