I Am Jack's Raging Mommy

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Monday, January 30, 2006

9 months

The gestation of a human child takes nine months, and thank GOD we aren't elephants. Those nine months can be some of the slowest, most painful, most uncomfortable and most boring months of our lives. I know a lot of women enjoy, and revel in the state of pregnancy. Personally, I would prefer to move to a state with more liberal laws. But there we are and there we stay. Nine months of anticipation and worry and excitement and dread and preparation and eating.

Jack is nine months old today. This time has passed so much more quickly than his gestation. Mommies know what I mean. Technically, it's takes the same amount of time, and Einstein might disagree with our assessment that time has flown faster, but try telling that to a stressed out hormonal mother and see what you get.

Now is where I brag. My nine month old stands up when he has something to hold on to (though he has had a few split seconds where he's stood without aid) and walks (again as long as there is something to hold on to). We aren't taking hesitant steps here, he throws himself, sometimes physically, into the task. He has four teeth with two more about to come through. He talks (mama, dada, hi, baba) and waves to people he knows. Genius, thy name is Jack, and if you try to disagree may I remind you about the whole hormonal mother bit?

Here's the thing. I still feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I worry about making mistakes that will require years of therapy that our future medical care won't take care of. I worry about the crazy that is me, and how that along with the genetic predisposition will effect him. But I do my best, and I love him ferociously, and when I see how happy he is I think somewhere, somehow I must be doing something right.

I don't think I'll ever feel as if I'm doing the job properly, and many say that doubt is a wonderful thing, that as long as you care you are on the right track. Those are the thoughts that help me sleep at night.

I'm still not ready to think about another child, and a large part of that is the disbelief I could love another to the degree I love him. I'm still not ready for him to stop loving mommy and turn to daddy, and I'm so not ready for the talking back. But it's okay, those things are far down the line and while he may not be my tiny little guy he was when he was born, he's still my amazing baby boy who thrills me daily, and who I love more than myself.

I'm still thankful we aren't elephants though.


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