As a mom, there are many experiences for which people simply can’t prepare you. I was told that contractions felt like “really bad menstrual cramps.” What contractions actually feel like? Committing hara-kiri with a knife just dull enough not to kill you but just sharp enough to make you rethink every choice that got you to that moment.
Then there’s leaving the hospital with a newborn when you’ve never so much as changed a diaper and are still wondering, So, when will her neck start working? Of course, there are the beautiful, ineffable firsts: The first time your baby smiles at you, the first time you hear her laugh, the first steps she takes before she falls giggling into your open arms. And the… less appetizing… firsts: The first time your kid gets lice.
The first time your kid gets Hand, Foot, Mouth. The first time your kid gets pinworms. The second time your kid gets pinworms.
The third time your kid gets pinworms. Motherhood is obsessed with firsts. We photograph them, write them down, text them to grandparents, and post them online so people we haven’t spoken to since high school can give us a virtual thumbs up.
Nobody takes a picture of the last time you carry your child. Mostly because you don’t know it’s the last time. Also because you’re probably telling your child, “My back hurts, and you’re perfectly capable of walking!” Nobody posts the last time your child crawls into your bed after a nightmare.
Nobody texts the grandparents about the last time your child trick-or-treats with you. Because by the time you realize any of these things have happened for the last time, it’s too late. I grew up in New York City in a 43-story apartment building, where Halloween meant riding elevators and knocking on doors with a printed list of “participating” neighbors.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
