Spurts

I was reflecting recently that babies tends to do things in "spurts". They go through growth spurts at fairly predictable times. They go through cognitive growth spurts, too, which are the ever-dreaded "wonder weeks". Heck, my son even got his four top teeth all in one spurt (in the space of 10 days, to be exact).

I guess I was more or less prepared for these when my son was born. I mean, really, I don't think there's any way to prepare to be a parent. You can read all the books but at the end of the day, you're just sort of thrown into the mix with this helpless, needy little thing and you just sort of feel your way along by instinct and hope that insurance will still exist in another 20 years so you can pay your child's therapy bills from your inevitable screw-ups. At any rate, although the growth spurts, developmental milestones, and cognitive leaps were something I was (mostly) expecting, I was absolutely blown away by the depth of the emotional reactions I've had toward my son for the eight short months of his life.

To be fair, I'm not exactly a very emotional person. ("Ice princess" might be a better description.) So all the touchy-feely, lovey-dovey stuff in the world doesn't tend to make a whole lot of sense to me. For the first three weeks or so of my son's life, I remember feeling very overwhelmed. He cried a lot, he slept at all the wrong times and woke up at even worse ones, I felt so very strange not being pregnant any more, I didn't understand what his various cries meant, he peed all over the wall every time I tried to change his diaper, occasionally he shot projectile poo all over me, I was constantly covered in spit up (and who doesn't love being covered in her own partially digested breastmilk??) and I remember thinking, "Why in the world did I think having a baby was a good idea?!"

And then one day, my heart experienced a seismic shift. He was about 3 weeks old, and I was holding him after he'd finished eating. He was just staring up at me with his deep blue eyes, and suddenly, out of nowhere, my world was rocked. I felt an actual, deep pang in my chest. I gasped, because I felt like I couldn't breathe. My eyes teared up. My chest tightened and all I could choke out was a whispered, "I love you."

How simple. How profound. I love my son. As I stared back down at him and he cooed his happy little coo at me, my mind remembered the image from the old "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" cartoon, where they hold up the X-ray over the Grinch's chest and show that his heart, which had originally been two sizes too small, "grew three sizes that day." It pretty accurately described how I felt. I realized that I loved my son in a way that was profoundly different from how I have ever loved another human being in my life. It was a deeper, stronger, and more primal love than I had ever felt. It hurt. It stole my breath. It was amazing. I remember thinking, "How do people possibly survive if they feel emotions this intense every single day??"

So imagine my surprise a few weeks later, the first time my son smiled at me, when it happened again. My heart grew three sizes again. How? How is that possible??

And yet it keeps happening. The first time my son laughed. The first time he said "mama". The first time he hugged me. The first time he kissed me. The first time he reached for me. When he stops crying because he sees me. When he crawls with all his might to reach me. When he pats my face. When he snuggles against my chest at bedtime. When he looks for me when he hears my voice.  Every.single.time. Heart expansion. Stilled breath. Stronger bond. Ow.

I realized that it's probably a good thing that my love for him has grown in spurts as well. If it happened all at once, I'm pretty sure my chest would explode. As it is, I'm not quite sure how it all fits inside of my rather small body, or where it's all supposed to go for the next 50 or so years that I will probably live. All I know is, my son has a mommy who loves him with every single ounce of life she has. He is my heartbeat and my sunshine, and I am humbled that God chose to bless me with this amazing little boy, and I pray every day that I will be a mother worthy of being called "Mommy."

And I'm also learning to stop being amazed at how much of a sap he makes me. It's a good thing I was never cool to start with, because I am definitely far from cool now. But I'm okay with that, because I'm Elijah's Mommy, and that's really, totally cool.