Years ago when I thought about becoming a mother I was nervous and excited. I wanted to be the Ideal Mom. The one who baked cookies with the children and rolled around on the floor with them, played games, read books, sang songs, snuggled, giggled, kissed and cuddled, and taught them all of the wonders in the world and out of it. I had this romantic Super Mom image in my head created from all of my reading as a child about the kind of cool, fun, loving, and Perfect Mother I was going to be. I thought it would come naturally and easily to me simply because I wanted so much to be that person, I would find a way to make it happen.
When we had a little trouble getting pregnant as quickly as we wanted it was only a little fly in my ointment. I tried to remain positive as I watched friends bellies swell, went to baby showers, and sat watching these new mothers beam with pride and gloating over their little accomplishments. The comments about wanting to see us "get started" stung a little, but I tried to brush it aside with the thought that it would happen for us "when the time was right". And, it did happen, as it so often does, when I had given up trying to remain in control. When I finally relaxed and committed it to the hands of the Lord, it did come. And I was happy. It was exciting to finally begin to plan in earnest.
Fast forward a few months into my pregnancy and all was going well. We had just returned from a fun trip to Disneyland and I was starting to swell just a bit going into my last trimester. When I walked into my doctor's office that week for a check-up I had no idea that I would not be going home until I had delivered a baby. The swelling was worse than I knew. I was dumping protein. The test at the doctor's office sent me to the hospital for a more conclusive test, which concluded I needed a 24 hour test, which concluded that I had full blown preeclampsia and would be on bed rest at the hospital until I could no longer carry the baby. For a young couple, embarking on our first parenting experience this was overwhelming and completely new. In neither of our families did we have experience with this kind of birth drama. As we navigated the difficult waters of trying to understand our situation, trying to make wise decisions about our situation when we didn't understand it, and trying to reassure ourselves and our families about what we didn't truly understand, I had no idea that this would become a pattern of our lives as parents.
When my precious little girl finally entered this world, 9 weeks early, precariously premature and tiny (3 lbs!), I could only focus on the miracle of her birth and the preservation of her life and mine. I could only get through one day at a time as we both recovered.
It was the Mr. who first had to embrace his role as Warrior Dad, to be strong enough to protect me and our child from Too Much of Everything. He had to deal with doctors, nurses, administrators, family, friends, all who had something to tell us or some decision for us to make, or who themselves wanted Answers from us. Answers we so often didn't have. And he did it. He was our rock. Our Protector. Our Knight in shining Adidas. It was his strength and courage to stand up for us that gave me the strength and courage to stand up for my girl and fight for what we thought was best for her. The doctors and nurses and administrators didn't always understand or agree with our choices. I'm sure our families didn't either. But we did what we thought was best for her, and we did it together because we were a Family now. Even if it wasn't the ideal picture I had created in my head.
We had landed in the land of the Preemies, Complications, Developmental Delays, and eventually Autism, and we had a much different journey to take than the one we had planned. Upon our arrival in this strange new world we had to quickly adjust to new rules, new directions, new skills, and a whole new language. It's taken nearly 8 years of learning to adapt to this new destination, and I find that I'm constantly making little adjustments all along as our path changes and alters abruptly here and there.
Today as I sat at the school I felt another adjustment coming upon us. I felt the drum of my heartbeat as I started to mentally suit up for another battle, another skirmish in defense of my child brewing. I'm more prepared today than I was all those years ago. I've got some experience, gained some weapons, and some confidence I wish I had had when this all started.
At least now I know who I am, what my role is.
I am the Warrior Mama.
Bring it on.
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