Motherhood Moments - 1

I sometimes think about moments where I felt like a mum

I am a mum, I know that. But I’m also a wife and a woman and black and old and fat and a daughter and a sister and everything else. So, what bits are the mum bits?

It’s not as simple as breastfeeding or changing nappies or googling ‘is this normal’ at 3 in the morning. I believe there are moments that, if you had a photo album or gallery exhibition about motherhood, what images from your life would the curator choose?

My mind is flooded with all of the potential images - tea parties, sitting in the armchair in the dark at 1 in the morning, pushing her in the swing for what feels like hours - but there are those moments that cut through the noise; the ones that sit quietly at the back of your mind, you may have even forgotten they happened.

For the first few months, Ramona had outrageous tummy issues. She had an undiagnosed tongue tie, I had a monstrous let-down and we had no help - no health visitor, nothing. So we were up nearly every night with a screaming infant, desperate to help her but feeling totally adrift. We read that an over the counter remedy could really help with these tummy issues so we dosed her up and crossed our fingers. After a short while we realised the mistake we’d made - she didn’t get better, her screaming became so much worse. She was rigid and tired and red and angry and in so much pain. We held her, we sang, we turned all the lights off, we turned the TV on, we put her down, we sat her up. There was nothing that we didn’t try to ease her pain. Occasionally she would quieten down, when held in my arms with her head on my shoulder and her legs tucked against my stomach. We’d try to put her down and the terror would begin all over again. 

I don’t remember what day it was but it must have been during the work week because I remember worrying about Jack - this was all happening in our room and he had to work the next day. He was there with me - I would have fallen apart without him - just as panicked and as drained as I was. But I didn’t have to get up and manage people and responsibilities like he did. I realised that Ramona would only sleep in my arms in that exact position; anything else was just too painful. I sat still long enough for Ramona to be still and for Jack to fall asleep and carried her downstairs. 

I sat in an armchair, in the dark, too scared to turn on the TV or listen to music. I opened the curtains a little bit and just stroked Ramona’s back, kissed her head and watched the darkness soften and fold as the sun came up. She slept beautifully for the rest of the night while I vowed to firebomb the manufacturer of the remedy I gave her (FYI - I didn’t do it!). I didn’t sleep until the next night. I’m sure I must have dozed while she was napping in the day but I really hate disturbed sleep so there’s a good chance I didn’t sleep until 1.30am the next morning - Ramona’s usual bedtime at that age.

And with all of that, what I remember most is how good she felt in my arms; I can feel her warm, soft weight right now as I’m typing this. I had no fear that I would fall asleep; I felt like I was in the only place in the universe that was made for me. As if, if there were multiple universes out there, at that very moment, I would have been sat there holding my daughter in the dark while watching the world wake up in every single one of them; a moment of complete symmetry across the multiverse. 

And that is one of the moments of absolute motherhood for me.I was scared, exhausted, angry but also relieved, excessively in love with my child and safe in the knowledge that my husband was right there with us. It honestly felt like a privilege to be able to give myself to those two people in that way because of everything they gave me. And those are the moments that I wish I could capture forever.