Redefining

The Canadian Oxford Dictionary defines vulnerable thusly: able to be physically or emotionally hurt; liable to damage or harm. I define it like this: motherhood.

Never before have I felt so susceptible to fear, pain, anxiety or loss as I have since I became a mother. Where before my fears and losses have been most singularly focussed on myself, my career, my vanities, now I feel an aching sense of standing at the edge of a chasm of potential grief when I think of something happening to my child. Worse still, I know that something is bound to happen - nothing catastrophic required, of course, but eventually, I will screw up. No matter how I try to envision and prevent every little thing that might harm her, I cannot protect her from everything and I think this is the first really fearful awakening as a new parent. It's difficult not to have anxiety about things, even the simple ones that I know will become commonplace, like putting her to sleep in her crib. A few days ago after a long sleepless night with her, grunting and cooing and wriggling in my arms all night, I decided to place her in her crib for the first time in the hopes of getting two solid hours of sleep from 4 to 6 am. There are no bumpers, the colourful bear sheets are pulled crisp and tight, there are no stuffed animals, the blankets are low and tucked with room for her to scooch upwards. I closed the door, put the monitor next to me in bed - and proceeded to have as fitful a sleep as had she been there. I worried that the blanket would somehow leap from its spot and smother her, that the cats might break into her room and smother her - that I would sleep too soundly and some tragedy would befall her - it was hopeless. But of course, it does not end there. Sometimes you just screw up - like the other day when holding her asleep in my arms I leaned over a still-hot burner on the stove - it didn't burn her but ohmygod it could have! She could fall from my arms in the night, she could roll off the change table, she could have a pillow fall on her when I run to the bathroom...it's a gauntlet!

And then real things happen. In the bath the other night we were having a lovely time - she really seems to love the water and has a dark calm that descends upon her in the tub. She was really loving it, smiling and cooing and kicking her feet as though she was swimming. I turned her away and was holding her little head, being careful to keep her ears above water (yet another hazard) when she did one of her 6-week old head bobbles straight into the water where she gulped a little, paused for a heartsick few seconds turned red and screamed for her life. I do not think I have ever felt more awful about anything, it was agony for me to think that I had somehow caused this pain, this fear - or at least failed to prevent it. Naturally, babies have short memories and she regained herself when she was warmed and caught her breath, but mommys have long memories and I don't think I'll ever forget it.

And still more - yesterday, Sunday, she was so completely out of sorts and she grew increasingly miserable as the day wore on - never wanting to be out of arms, crying, fussing, constantly at the breast - and with on-going very wet poopy diapers that were beginning to scare me. How many were there? When had it started? You don't always know when to pay attention - and then I realized that I don't yet have a system set up, I didn't really know who to call about it. I started looking in books and they were saying that it could be dangerous so many loose stools and then I called the nurse's line and they declared her to have 'severe' diarrhea since she is so young and she said I should take her to her doctor - 9 pm on a Sunday long weekend. The clinics are closed and the only option is a full and sickly emergency room. I cradled her in my arms, finally, mercifully asleep and I wanted to cry, I felt so awful to be at that point - why hadn't I know earlier? (even though I had called the midwife earlier in the day to ask her opinion which was that she was likely fine) What do I do??? I called the doctor on-call - I can't even remember where I got the number from and after more of the same questions he told me to just monitor her since the diapers were getting better, she had no fever and was eating well and not dehydrated. I held her on my shoulder, stroking her pink velour back and I inhaled the scent of my little girl really, truly understanding what it is to be a mother. To be a mother is to feel everything they feel, to worry about every little thing as though it were big, to place yourself in front of the moving vehicle that is life, that is growing up, that is chance. You have volunteered to make yourself the most vulnerable you have ever been in your life and you realize that tragedy is not something that might happen to you - it is something that might happen to your child.
I held her in my arms and she slept, she ate, she relaxed back into the sweet girl we know. She ate well, she went less and awoke today with a clean diaper and a lovely smile. She is fine, I know, but still-- a mother worries.