I went to lunch today with a group of people, two of which had their baby along and inevitably she was passed around the table and most of the talk centered on “baby stuff.” I don’t know why, but I’ve never been one of those women who drool over babies and feel the need to discuss the latest child rearing trends, or swap advice with other mothers. Not when I was pregnant, not after I gave birth and not one time since then.
Is something wrong with me? Do I lack a gene that all mothers are supposed to possess?
Is it because my pregnancy wasn’t planned or because I made a conscious decision that my life wasn’t going to change because I had a child; by that I mean that I didn’t rearrange my life, childproof my house and move everything out of reach. I simply presented my life to him as is and he slid into place and assumed his position, right from the beginning.
My mother thinks something is horribly wrong, in that I don’t remember how much my son weighed when he was born or how long he was. Why would I need or care to know how long he was; I was just happy to have my body to myself again! And why after almost 8 years, do I need to know how much he weighed at birth? I only knew one thing for certain; that I had a healthy baby boy and vowed to share all that I have and all that I am with him.
That’s exactly what I’ve done and I believe you’d be hard-pressed to find a better boy, who thinks with his head and feels from his heart. It’s not about strollers, diaper genies or developmental toys…it’s about the real things you give them; love, guidance, understanding, support, independence, trust, did I say love? All these things are what set the course for the people they become…not the books you read, the music you listened to, or the murals that were painted in the nursery. It all comes from the inside and can’t be bought at any price.