Secret Insanity
My biggest fear in life used to be that I would die before I became a mother. I was terrified I would be diagnosed with terminal cancer, or hit by a bus, or eaten by a shark before I ever got down to the business of getting married and having babies. I was afraid I would never find the right man to marry. I worried I would miss "the window" for getting pregnant. I worried that I would have to figure out a way to have a child on my own if I didn't meet someone I wanted to spend my life with. It seemed like I wanted to be a mother so badly that it was bound to get bungled up somehow.
I look back on that time and I laugh. How funny it is to me now. I thought I knew what fear was back then. I know now that you really can't grasp the true potential of terror until you become a parent.
Back then I thought I would be really good at this whole motherhood shtick. I was certain I would just glide into my new role as a parent, cooing, soothing, and burping all the way. Like a pro. Overconfidence and obliviousness made me shortsighted. I laugh at that now too.
I was 31 years old when Jim and I got married. We got pregnant about 2 months later. It happened that fast. I secretly enjoyed watching people doing the math in their heads when they first learned that I was pregnant. I would coach them. "She will be born two weeks before our first anniversary". Twelve months minus one month is eleven months. Eleven. Not eight. Eleven.
I looked forward to meeting my daughter. I wanted to be done with the whole pregnancy thing and just get on with it already. My fears about missing the opportunity to have a child disappeared into the breeze as I neared my due date.
Then Maggie was born, and "the fear" came back. But it was different. It had grown teeth and claws. It was bigger and scarier than before. It had morphed into something else entirely.
My visceral reaction to the new title of mother surprised me. Those were the "deer in the headlights" days. I thought I would be a natural with an infant. I wasn’t. At all. I was awkward and jumpy and nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. It felt like everyone could tell how clueless I was. I had created an imaginary audience and they didn’t think much of my performance. I was about to be booed off stage. They were on the verge of lobbing rotten vegetables at me. It felt like I was being judged by everyone. I didn't have a frigging clue what I was doing. I was a fraud and they knew it.
I didn’t feel ready for the responsibility of another human. Not just any human but an itty bitty human who could poop and cry and eat and breathe but couldn’t do much else. A little human whose mother was ME. ME. I was responsible for the physical and emotional development of a baby who would grow to be an adult. And I was doing a terrible job. T here was no turning back. I was in it, and I was in it deep.
It felt like Maggie and I weren’t connected the way mothers and newborns are supposed to be . I was going through the motions of feeding and holding and burping, but she didn’t know me from Adam. It creeped me out when I would go to her bassinet and find her trying to nurse the side of it. She didn't know me from her bassinet. What the Hell was wrong with me? I was an abysmal failure. I was failing my daughter. I was afraid I would never be a good mother. I was afraid Maggie would suffer because if it.
I was in bad shape. Toss in sleep depravation, a whole lot of stitches, a body that I no longer recognized and jacked up hormones and I was a mess. I practiced what you might call "fake it ‘til you make it" (a very useful coping strategy), we got into a routine, and things eventually started feeling a little better. Closer to normal at least.
And then the fear. It came back. And this time it was bigger than I ever imagined.
I fell in love with my daughter. I was swept away in absolute adoration. And that scared the motherloving crap out of me. When you love a child that much, they become more that mere flesh and blood. That baby is so much more than brain synapses and dendrite connections. More than their collective parts and movements and noises and expressions. That little person becomes the center of your world. They change you. They alter your body chemistry and your brain. They become part of who you are. They move right on into your heart and they never ever leave. When I felt the magnitude of that, fear gripped me like a vice. It crushed my lungs so I couldn't breathe. It buckled my knees getting out of the tub. It made me so cold my stomach turned.
My thoughts went all panicky and herky-jerky.
"What if something happens to her? What if she gets cancer? What if she becomes addicted to drugs and I can't help her? What if we get raided by terrorists and Jim and I are killed and can't be here to protect her? How would she survive? How can I prepare her now for possibilities like that?"
The world. It had me by the balls. I kept thinking to myself "I am so screwed".
I found myself obsessing about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I wanted to set up camp next to her bassinet and monitor every breath. I wanted to check on her every 5 minutes every night. I would startle awake if she slept too long and think to myself "She could be dead right now. Please don't let her be dead." And I would hurry to her room to find her sleeping peacefully. I actually considered the pros and cons of staying up all night every night staring at her, just to make sure she was okay. It was about then that I realized that in addition to needing more sleep, I needed to let go a little and have some faith. I am not the worlds most trusting person, so just having faith was no small feat.
I found myself making deals with God.
"Okay God. I officially surrender. You've got me. Remember all that time when I wasn't sure if you existed or not? I am sorry. All those times I have used your name in vain? Sorry about that too. You know this baby I have wanted for basically my entire life? Her existence is all the proof I need that you are for real. I didn't really get it before. I do now. I require no further education, so if you were thinking of teaching me a lesson you don't need to. I have learned my lesson. Really. In case you didn't know (oh that's right , you're omniscient) if anything happens to her I don't think I would ever recover. Ever. My soul would be decimated. You've got me, and you've got me big time. You are one hundred percent in charge. No kidding. I finally get it. So please, please, please, have mercy on my heathen soul and keep this child safe from harm. I will do my best as an earth-dwelling human to keep her out of danger. If you could take care of the fate, disaster, apocalypse part of the equation I will be forever grateful. Thanks."
Maggie is fourteen months now, and still alive (Thanks, God). I don't worry as much as I used to. "the fear" doesn't grip me as often as it used to. Perhaps I have learned not to turn my brain to that station. Perhaps I get wrapped up in the day-to-day tasks and routines of parenthood. Perhaps I just take things for granted. It does creep up on me once in a while though, and the fear is just as overpowering and as menacing as I remember.
A friend of mine e-mailed me a quote from the book "Operating Instructions" by Anne Lamott. It reads : "one of the worst things about being a parent is being face to face with one's secret insanity". That pretty well sums it up. Although my insanity doesn't seem to be a secret anymore . I am one crazy momma.
Comments
Wow. Just wow.
I am not a mother yet and still I identify so much with what you are saying. It takes such COURAGE and faith, as you said, to be a mother. I have been thinking about the mothers who had babies 100 years ago, when they were very likely to lose at least one child in infancy.
Thank you, thank you for sharing these deepest of fears. It helps to know they are shared and normal!
Posted by: Kathleen | November 4, 2005 6:58 PM
>> I secretly enjoyed watching people doing the math in their heads when they first learned that I was pregnant.
LOL. I was in a similar boat. My evil brother-in-law kept saying, "I hope you'll like your eight month old baby" as an indication that he believed that I was pregnant before I got married. But what he didn't realize (and should have, because he had just became a father,) was that the forty weeks begins at ovulation, not at conception.
So yeah. I ovulated before I got married. :)
As for the "secret insanity," I confess I started to feel vulnerable when I was engaged. It was "please let everyone live to see me married." Then it was "please let everyone live to see my son," and so forth up to "please let my son live to be married, to grow old, etc..."
Posted by: Kari | November 4, 2005 9:39 PM
Thank you for this. I so totally understand where you are coming from. I'm crazy too.....my web address proves it. :-)
Posted by: Sonia | November 5, 2005 2:29 AM
I'm right there with you on the "please don't let her be dead" mantra. I used to make Kyle come into the room with me, just so that I wouldn't have to be alone. I remember when Tacy finally started sleeping in the cradle next to our bed (as opposed to on my tummy), and I would wake up before she did, lean over the edge of the bed in terror, reach into the cradle to touch her warm little head, just to make sure she was still with us.
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