Motherhood, Week 1: At a Glance

Nestled on the family room couch, I have Nathaniel sleeping in my arms. In the afternoons, during his naps, I could very well put him in the bassinet, but I love having him in my arms—to feel his small, warm body against mine and study that precious, peaceful look on his face. I feel the faint movements of his chest against mine. The occasional smirk (though I know it’s only a reflex at this point). His arms flapping about at the slightest sound.

It’s amazing what can transpire in a week. In any ordinary week the past year, I might have completed some errands, managed to tend to some household chores, or finished an assignment or studying for a test. But since Mother’s Day, my husband and I had brought a miracle into this world and suffered through a week of what many experienced parents have warned us about—sleep deprivation.

Though I itch to document every detail of the labour and the complete journey of my first week as a mother—I write, knowing that, at any moment, Nathaniel may waken and so I must be selective regarding what thoughts to record.

Especially those first few days, it is easy to be overcome with emotion—elation as the doctor pulls him out and to suddenly see a fully grown baby in the arms of the nurse, suspended in the air above me—tears swell inside me as well as disbelief. Then the first night, being the inexperienced mother that I am (you can read all the books you can and still feel unprepared…), not knowing Nathaniel just yet, frustration gradually takes over. I worry. Worry about the mucous in his nostrils. His hesitation in feeding. His piercing cry. When my husband goes home to get sleep that first night, and I am alone in Room 237 at the hospital, against the background of other crying newborns, I utter many prayers. Please God, teach baby to suck. Please God, make him sleep. Please God, help me do this. That first night, I sang as many songs as I could for the baby—and in my mind, it worked. At “My Jesus I Love Thee…” or “I Lift My Eyes Up…” the baby would be soothed. And then I tell myself, I can do this, I can do this.

Nathaniel is now eight days old. The hope, comfort, and consolation that I have is that it gets better with each day. Each morning and afternoon and night is a chance to learn something new about Nathaniel. What his habits are. What he dislikes. What he likes. And every day is a chance for another little victory. And though externally circumstances may appear to be routine—feed, diaper change, play, sleep—motherhood is an internal battle: you start the morning gathering up the determination to do things better today, to be more efficient with time, to pay a little more attention to the husband (I had realized last night, that since the baby had been born, I hadn’t even been able to give the husband a hug), to prepare yourself a little more for the long trek ahead—and to remember to fit God into it all. Because PRAYER is so critical at this time—time alone with God, and time with the husband with God. Therein lays the power. To be entrusted with this life by the One above (Nathaniel is Hebrew for “God has given”)—so that all those images that run through the imagination can be rightly anchored.

As for marriage. The week prior to Nathaniel’s birth, the husband and I went on as many “dates” as possible. We watched Iron Man, ate out, and went for Gelato and Chinese desserts at around midnight— activities we knew we wouldn’t be able to do once the baby came. Three and a half years of marriage and I’m more in love with my husband than I have ever been. I rarely tire from hearing him laugh while watching television, going for evening walks around the neighborhood, feeling his embrace, chatting with him at night before both of us fall asleep.

And then the baby comes and the REAL test is—how is your marriage when both of you are running on virtually no sleep? How is your temperament? How do you fare in the patience department? Are you still expressing kindness and consideration toward one another?

Are you still exercising the same love--if not deeper? And if not--PRAY. God is the source of the ultimate sacrificial love. Without Christ as the example, we are left to our own selfish instincts. We need the Spirit to rouse us, to remind us of the beauty, the miracle of all that is happening. For as much as the nights seem to drag as Nathaniel wakes every hour or two for attention--deep down, I know these days will not last long and I must savour them just as much as I long for them to pass.

The husband is watching Nathaniel now. He went to the gym this morning, and now, it’s a chance for me to have some alone time. Our new family of three is a little more settled this week—compared to the desperation and chaos of last week. We’ve somewhat established a routine—though we’re still learning together. The husband only has one more week of vacation and then he’s back to work—which is why I want this week to go by as slowly as possible.

Better get some rest before Nathaniel’s next feeding.