Sara Hall
Janel Spencer
WRT 101S
October 31, 2019
Becoming a Mother
Becoming a mother is a gift and has had the most significant impact on my life. It has taught me a lot of things; I learned to have patience, to be kind, and to have selflessness. Becoming a mother changed who I was as a person for the better. I was not a horrible person; I was a typical self-absorbed young adult who didn’t have their priorities straight. I would spend money on pointless things and was not motivated to be productive with my life. I would hang out with individuals who did not hold my best interest. Becoming a mom, you tend to find out who your real friends are. Now I understand it is important to save time for people in your life who truly matter and want the best for you. When I finally held my newborn daughter for the first time was one of the best feelings in the world. Caring and loving someone who is entirely dependent on you can change a person.
The day I found out I was pregnant is a day I will never forget. I had told the news of my pregnancy to my mom and boyfriend before isolating myself into the bathroom. I sat staring at the positive pregnancy test that was sitting on my porcelain bathroom countertop. I could not control the knots rolling around my stomach and the cool, clammy sweat on the palms on my hands. The rusty vent above the wooden door blew out cold air into the small bathroom. It left goosebumps along my arms, yet my hands were damp with sweat. I was afraid of becoming a mother. It scared me. I wouldn’t know what to do. I was sitting on the worn linoleum floor with my back resting against the teal bathroom wall. I remember bending my legs and hugging my knees. Thoughts kept spinning around in my head, making me dizzy and my headache, What if I’m a bad mother? Who will take care of the baby when I’m at work or school? Will I have to drop out of school? I remember getting up and holding myself over my bathroom sink. I saw a stranger in the mirror that day—a stranger with red puffy eyes and a tear-stained face. I had the support of my family and Jacob. Jacob had reassured me time and time again that I was not alone. As I stared at the stranger in the mirror, I told myself I wasn’t alone, and whatever I faced, I had people who loved me on my side.
I knew becoming a mother would not be easy, but gaining my confidence, back I had a plan. Jacob and I worked so much over those next eight months to save money. I knew having a baby would be costly, so I saved every penny I made. Most mornings I would wake up at 4:00 a.m. to get ready for work. Jacob would get up with me those mornings, even though he did not need to be up to get ready for work for four more hours. My body would feel heavy, and my mind groggy from sleep. Right away, my stomach would bubble and turn with morning sickness. It was summer and living in an old brick house sometimes felt as if we were living in an easy bake oven. While I slowly and dreadfully got ready for work, Jacob would make his way to the kitchen. He would grab a cold green can of ginger ale from the humming ivory refrigerator and would pull out two tall clear glasses from one of the walnut cabinets. He would pour the crisp, fizzy ginger ale in a glass and then would slowly pour it into the second glass. He would pour the emerald liquid back and forth until the bubbles seem to die down into the tall clear glass. He would do this every morning for me, not because I asked him to, but because he knew the carbonation would worsen the bubbles already brewing in my stomach. The less carbonated ginger ale always seemed to help my stomach settle so I could stomach to nibble on a few saltine crackers. Before leaving, he would walk me to my car and would mumble with sleep in his voice, “Have a good day at work” before giving me a quick kiss on my lips. Then I would be off to serve tables, while I tried not to gag from the smell of runny egg yolks and the obscene about of ketchup the morning crowd seemed to drench on their hash browns.
I can recall the first time I held my daughter like it was yesterday. Jacob and I had already known our baby would be a girl and had agreed on the name Emma Rose. I remember the nurses had just given Emma her first bath before handing her to me. She was little and light in my arms. I remember her small pink face peeking out from her baby cap. She was tightly swaddled in a white, pink, and blue striped hospital blanket. As I held her close, I could hear her softly cooing. I could faintly smell her newborn baby smell that appears so close to smell the same on all babies. It is like the way puppies seem to all have the same faint puppy smell. As I held her in my arms, the nurses scurried about while Jacob stood over my shoulder, peering down at our daughter. He reached over and with one large tan finger to trace her petite, delicate hand. He had a small on his face, and I could see the moister in his brown eyes as he stared down at her. Seeing this had tugged on my heart. I had only seen him cry one other time before that night. Seeing how much love he had for our daughter in his eyes made me fall even more in love with him that day. “You did it,” he murmured when he finally met my gaze. He leaned down and brushed his lips against my forehead. When he leaned back, he smiled again and whispered, “I love you.”
Being a mother isn’t always easy. I remember the late-night diaper changes. I was waking up every two hours to breastfeed. I was stressing, trying to find the time when I was at work to pump. I remember walking around like a zombie trying to stop the endless crying. I tired dancing, swaying, singing, anything to settle her down. The never-ending laundry from dirty onesies caused by spit-up and leaky diapers, would pile in the basket. I was never getting over two hours of sleep. Grocery shopping with a baby was no easy fleet. It was exhausting, but that little girl was worth it.
My daughter will turn seven this November. She has since changed a lot these past seven years. She is the average height for her age but is on the slender side. She has chocolate-brown hair with natural curls that lightly dust her shoulders. Her face is round and warm. Her skin looks almost sun-kissed—a skin tone she inherited from her father. She has long, dark lashes with bright brown eyes that shine and are always full of wonder and curiosity. When she smiles, her eyes crinkle just a bit as she gives a toothy grin with her front two teeth missing, one on the top and one on the bottom. Her clothes are always fun and colorful but don’t always match. She always completes her outfit for the day with a headband—sometimes it’s hot pink cat ears, other times a sparkly unicorn horn. Being a mom is more than just giving birth. It’s the happiness and love that swells in your chest when you look at your child. Motherhood has taught me so much about life, my husband, and myself. I try to keep my words kind and sweet. I learned words of kindness could go a long way to make someone’s day. My daughter looks up to me and hangs to every word I say, so I try my best to “live by example.” Time seems to be my enemy. Pregnancy seemed to go slowly, but now the weeks seem to fly by in the blink of an eye. I can see the proof of this with my daughter as she grows each day. I appreciate the little things in life so much more. I learned it is important to enjoy every moment. Life is short; don’t let it pass you by. I appreciate the little things in life so much more. Once my life was all about me, but that changed when I became a mom, and I couldn’t be happier. I may have given my daughter life, but she helped me find mine.
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