And so, with no further ado, on with the Parenting Rules!
Rule #1: Nothing can ever prepare you
No, I'm not talking about getting the right gear or reading the right books. I'm talking about how you can never be prepared for the unconditional love that comes with having a child. It's awe-inspiring, it's wonderful, and it's all-encompassing.
There were complications with my son's delivery. I'll leave that story for another day, but for now, all you need to know was that he ended up being born via emergency c-section. Two respiratory therapists were on hand to suck meconium (the first bowel movement - my son had taken his in utero, most likely due to the stress of his birth, and there was concern that it would get sucked into his lungs with his first breath). I later learned that the therapist that did the sucking most likely saved my little guy's life, and I don't even know her name or what she looks like.
My husband was my hero. My lifeline. He was outwardly calm, and so very supportive and loving. The first time he left my side was when he went with our son to the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit), but only after asking me if it was okay if he went, and after he ensured that my mom and little sister (who were the other members of my support team and had been in the hospital with us all day and night) got to see our new little baby in the NICU.
My midwife, like my husband, stayed by my side for the entire procedure. She was amazing. She provided support and encouragement, held a bowl to my face when I was sick, and, most importantly of all, she brought my son to me as soon as she could, so that I could see him and kiss him before they whisked him away to the NICU.
That one moment was enough. I was in love. I only have recollections of a little tiny head with tufts of hair, and a huge bundle of blankets wrapped around his little body. But when I saw him being taken away, it was like a part of me was being torn from me. He was my baby and I loved him right then and there.
It came as a blinding flash, that love. I know for some it may take more time (pregnancy hormones are a bitch, aren't they?), but no matter how long it takes, you know that little baby loves you right back. It's humbling to know that you are responsible for the life of another human being, one that is completely dependent on you.
You become sleep-deprived and frustrated. Some days you spend most of your time crying. But that love is there, no matter how much you complain about your child not napping or how many hours you spend rocking an inconsolably crying little one, willing to give anything, or everything, to make him or her feel better.
The love is there when he first rolls over, when she sits up for the first time, when he takes off crawling or when she takes her first tentative steps.
It's there when he throws his food off his highchair tray in glee while you moan about cleaning it up. Or when she starts splashing away in the toilet you forgot to put the lid down on.
It's there when he says, "mom mom mom" or "dadee" for the first time and you feel like you could burst from pride at his intelligence.
Or when she cries in the middle of the night and you hold her in your arms until she falls asleep again.
It's there. And it's beautiful.
And I wouldn't give it up for the world.
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