For the last 11 days, I’ve felt like I’ve been on a crazy twisty loopy roller coaster and I can’t get off.
And I totally don’t mean that in a bad way.
I put myself on this ride, not really knowing what to expect when I pushed that lap belt down tight but ultimately knowing that I wanted to ride the ride. This crazy ride called ‘becoming a parent‘ that everyone says is so worth it, life changing, wouldn’t change it for the world – I always knew I wanted to ride it someday and now I’m finally on it.
At times I find myself at the top of the summit, at the highest point, staring into this little baby’s face wondering how in the world I made that nose and those lips and that hair. I don’t know how I did it but I do know she’s the best thing I’ve ever made. And as she smiles in her sleep I feel the whoosh of wind on my face as the ride takes me down over the edge at 100 mph on a high.
Then when I least expect it, the twists and turns and loops come making me feel completely out of control and wanting to get off…I find myself wanting, better yet, needing to take a nap, take a shower, eat something, be on my own schedule, pump because I’m uncomfortably full, but then she fusses if I put her down so I put aside everything I need for her needs.
And then just as fast as the loops came, she breathes a little contented sigh as we reach a corkscrew and the butterflies come when she looks at me and coos as she grabs on to my fingers and doesn’t want to let go.
And oh, the lack of sleep is so so hard but worth every thrilling corkscrew and content sigh. It really is.
Then the fun little hills come, making me laugh uncontrollably like when she has a diaper ass-plosion that makes Scott yell “holy mother of God!”, or when she sleeps with her eyes open and one eye goes one way and the other goes the other way and it’s the creepiest funniest thing. Or when I put an outfit on her that I bought because it was the cutest thing ever, only to find that she looks ridiculous in red ruffles and all she’s missing is a big red nose and some clown shoes to match.
On this unpredictable ride, I find myself faced with lots of decisions throughout the day…should I go to the store and buy some fruit so I stop eating cookies for lunch? Probably. But oh a shower to make me feel human again would be better considering I’m starting to smell a little funky. Better yet, sleep sounds much better than a shower because really, no one is gonna smell me other than the Scott and the baby and I really don’t think they mind. But hey, baby just ate and is snuggling with Scott so I make the decision to sit in front of this computer with a beverage and write, ’cause momma needs a moment to herself.
Then we reach an uncomfortable pause at the end of the twists, where I find myself thinking a lot… thinking about how my life has already changed completely, my old life is already long gone. The thought of drinking all day has lost its appeal now, of zipping out the door on a whim isn’t possible, of looking in the mirror at my old body isn’t reality now, it’s all different and it’s gonna take some adjusting. It’s like starting at a new school…you don’t know anyone, don’t know where you are, and you want to feel comfortable as quickly as possible but the only way to do that is to be patient.
How’s that for explaining an analogy with an analogy?
And so far at the end of every day, I don’t remember what I did that morning, but what I do know is that my baby is still alive and well and singing me little songs with her baby sounds. I’ve officially let go of the safety bar, thrown both hands in the air, and I’m riding the ride.
I’m scared out of my mind. I’m exhausted like I’ve never known. I’m at a level of deliriously happy that I didn’t even know was possible. And I’ve realized that only the best of the best rides can give you all that.