First-Time Mom Receives Gifts in Giving Life

When my daughter, Juliana, was born nearly a year ago, I thought I was prepared for the many emotions I would encounter. During my pregnancy, I read books and talked to mothers about their experiences. I expected to feel happy, sad, tired, anxious and, mostly, overjoyed.

What I was surprised to discover is the deep feeling of peace motherhood has brought.

It centers and calms me as nothing has before. I am magnetized by, and riveted to, my daughter. I have that blissful feeling of new love, and everything seems right.

My lifestyle has slowed. I worked for many years as a professional in the corporate world, where the meeting is holy and lunch is the focal point of the day. I hurried from task to task, trying to get the maximum done in the minimum amount of time.

I watched the clock like a hawk, revolving my day around it. I enjoyed working and put 15 years into my career as a budget analyst. I was always looking ahead to the next project.

Then Juliana came. She slowed me down and encouraged me to live in the present. It is impossible to look into her face and have my mind racing ahead to the next thing. I absolutely lose myself in her sweet smile.

I have become much less self-consumed. I am not as caught up in the latest fashion and making sure my hair and makeup are perfect each day.

In fact, when I shop, I first look in the children’s department for something for Juliana. I wonder how a certain dress would look on my daughter instead of gazing at an outfit for myself.

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At first, motherhood threw me into a state of panic. I was afraid to come home from the hospital, baby in tow. I felt unsure, shaky and emotional. I wanted the nurse to come home with me. I cried a lot. How was I going to take care of this tiny little person? To know that her entire development was being entrusted to me was scary.

I grow in confidence with each passing week as my mom skills expand. I chose to stay home and raise our daughter because I want to, and through hard work and planning, we will squeak through on one income. So I said goodby to the corporate world and hello to the land of lullabies and dirty diapers.

I always looked at mothers of large families and wondered how they did it. How could a person take care of all those people and still be sane? If I had started younger (I am 39), I might have wanted a large family. As the family grows, the amount of joy can only multiply.

I have become softer--on people and myself. Some months ago, during my pre-mom days, I noticed a family digging through the Dumpster outside my condo. I hurried out to shoo them away and remind them they were on private property. I felt self-righteous as they nervously slunk away with their bags of aluminum cans.

The other day, I observed a family digging through that same Dumpster, perhaps the same family. This time I felt a sense of compassion, maybe because they had a little girl, too. I felt camaraderie with that man, as he was doing the best he could do to care for his family.

I smiled. My change in attitude surprised me.

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I never thought I would be as fascinated by a baby as I am. Maybe it’s because she’s my own child. I find her endlessly magnetic, hanging on her every sound like some love-struck teen-ager gazing at his beloved.

What I have learned as a new mother is that I am capable of an unlimited amount of tolerance, patience and love--much more than I ever dreamed of.

I have a sense of fulfillment and peace that I’ve never had. I have learned that babies are continually interesting beings, changing and evolving with each moment.

Juliana matures and grows right before my eyes. Once, after weeks of watching her lie on her back, she rolled over. Just like that. No trumpets, no fanfare. She just did it. And I didn’t have to show her a thing.

She sees everything with a freshness that renews me. No matter how many times I repeat our special words, or smile at her, she always delights in it, giggling in glee.

As I gain confidence as a mom, I find that my baby is endearingly loyal and loving and, mostly, predictably unpredictable.

I don’t know exactly when she’s going to cry, or what new thing she will do tomorrow, but I know that she will, and that I’ll be there to share it with her.