The First Lesson of Motherhood

For all of you Chicken Soup book fans out there, here is a little ditty I'm submitting to see if someone will pay me for the crap that floats through my murky brain. Enjoy!

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The First Lesson of Motherhood

I sat on the toilet lid with the tell-tale test in my hands. I’d thought about this moment for months, imagining some wave of contentment and indescribable joy washing over me at the sight of a positive result. In this less-than-idealistic experience, I gracelessly urinated on a narrow fibrous stick and found myself staring with cantaloupe-sized eyes as urine slowly progressed through tiny plastic windows. Two pink lines were left in the wake. There they were in all of their glory, proclaiming I was pregnant. I sat waiting for the maternal love to kick in; it didn’t come. Instead, I was on the verge of hyperventilating, shaking in complete disbelief (and slight terror).

I had imagined from the beginning of my marriage that this moment would be much tenderer. I’d suspect I was pregnant and clandestinely take a pregnancy test. I’d break the news first to my husband. This revelation would occur with all the drama of a made-for-T.V. movie, ideally on an important holiday like Christmas or Father’s Day. We would hug and cry and kiss excitedly about our new future unfolding. We’d keep it a secret, I’d thought, and enjoy this knowledge just between the two of us for a while.

In reality, it was the end of July without a holiday in sight. My husband was away at work, and I found myself immediately phoning a person with pregnancy experience – my sister-in-law, mother of two. I needed confirmation from a reliable source.

“Well, if there are definitely two lines, you’re definitely pregnant!” was her reply upon my speculation about the test’s accuracy. “You really don’t need to take another test.”

My sister-in-law lovingly congratulated me, and I got down to business. Ignoring the advice I was given, I took a second test, then a third. I now had six pink lines of evidence (and no more urine to give for eight). Even the most skeptical jury would have found me irrevocably guilty of having a bun in the oven. So there I sat on the toilet lid, newly pregnant, and alone in the brash vanity lighting of my bathroom. I was painfully aware that the moment of a lifetime had come and gone without the anticipated fanfare. My first pregnancy was utterly entrenched in everyday life.

That was over three years ago. Looking back, I think I learned the first lesson of motherhood that day: genuine memories are entirely unscripted. The most magical moments catch me completely off-guard. They appear without my intervention. This is why no one ever has a camera handy when a baby takes her first steps, and a witness can’t be found when she utters her first words.

As a hopeless romantic, I’d spent my time concocting fantasies about the manner in which extraordinary things should appear in my life. I would be disenchanted when my dreams didn’t materialize the way in which I expected them. I believe I lost a lot of joy from experiences because I couldn’t appreciate them simply for their unadulterated happening.

Through my motherhood travels, I’ve learned that my most treasured memories are those that appear in the midst of everyday living. They sneak up on me and yell, “SURPRISE!” My daughter’s first steps, first time saying “mommy,” and first view of a live swan are some of my most precious memories. Yet none of these was arranged like a symphony; they all happened surreptitiously on average days in between diaper changes and breast-pumping sessions. I didn’t plan for them at all (which is excellent because having children means planning is often gratuitous).

Over the last three years, the first lesson of motherhood has served me well both as a parent and an individual. I spend more time enjoying the life I am given, and less time directing it in Hollywood-style scenarios. I look forward to the surprises and miracles of each day without any expectation of how they should arrive. I hold no grandiose standards for how the truly wondrous must unfold.

The end result is untainted bliss at the exact moment a miracle is revealed to me. Now I experience authentic happiness knowing the most poignant moments of my life can occur at absolutely any time. And they do when I merely let them.