The Mother and the Child- First

The Mother and the Child- An Installment Series

When the baby was born, and for a few weeks prior to that the mother had, by necessity began to distance herself in small ways from the child. For example, she taught the child to nap independantly in her crib in the afternoons, and stopped driving or cuddling the child to sleep. The mother considered herself fortunate to be blessed with a husband who was involved in raising the child, and she knew that he would have to assume more responsibilities in doing so when the baby was born. The father rose brilliantly to the occasion, taking on the role of point person for the child in areas such as bath time, bed time, and daytime outings. Meantime, the mother nursed the baby loyally in two hour intervals, wore the baby nearly continuously as she went about her domestic routine preparing meals, tidying, even studying. The mother, the baby and the child all spent many hours every day together and learned quickly how to be a unit of three. They shared hundreds of stories, trips to the library and park, drives around town, bowls of macaroni and cheese. Adjusting to the new baby had been a fairly smooth transition for the child who seemed to genuinely love her.

There were times though, sometimes several in a single day when the mother ached to hold the child when her arms were busy already cradling the baby. She'd hoist the child onto her hip and hug her with one arm as tightly and sweetly as she could, and it usually seemed to do the trick for the child, but always, the mother was left feeling a little sorry. There would be other times when the mother was nursing the baby that the child would call to the mother, or ask the mother to play a character in a pretend scenario she'd invented, or the child would suffer some minescule yet seemingly earthshattering injury, and the mother would be unable to respond with the quickness that she so desired to. And so often the moment of need had simply passed by when the mother was again able to be present for the child who had already forgotten. When these instances ocurred in the evening or on the weekend days when the father was home, he was able to fill in with out interruption from the baby. This attention was special to the child and watching the bond between the child and her husband strengthen gave some comfort to the mother's heart which ached from the separation she felt from the child.

As the weeks and months passed by the mother struggled to handle the child's developmental changes as she sought independence. Many difficult days were spent negotiating the roller coaster that is the second year of life. The mother read books and asked her friends for advice and cried to her mother when she felt overwhelmed, which was often. Less and less, it seemed, were the simple sweet moments shared between the mother and the child. The mother's despair, fueled by conflict with her strong willed child, grew steadily as she mourned what she felt to be the loss of her docile, affectionate first born baby. The child coped with the loss of her mother's undivided regard by turning squarely to her father. Her preference for her father was constant and ongoing for months, even as she continued to spend the majority of her time at home with her mother. Finally the mother, feeling desperate enrolled the child in a half day preschool twice a week. The mother was the only one feeling any separation anxiety the first day she dropped off the child, but the preschool was aptly timed and very well recieved by the child. The mother felt encouraged by the positive change.

As time passed, and the baby grew the mother slowly began to work a little more. She began to notice signs that the child, after all, did still love her. The child learned to brush her own teeth, put on her own clothing, make her own toast, wash her own hands and her relentless oppostition to the mother slowly began to decline. The mother, in turn, learned how to harness God like quantities of patience from the universe, choose her battles judiciously, and incorporated one on one time with the child into their daily routine while the baby napped, independently in her crib. The mother and child had come to some unspoken reckoning, each giving the other a little more room to be imperfect.

For months and months the child had been putting herself to sleep in her big girl bed with little or no fuss, and the mother and father would take turns tucking her in, leaving her surrounded by stuffed animals and books, content to spend a little alone time before drifting off. One night though, when there had been no nap, the child was upset when the mother tried to leave her room after tucking her in. She cried loudly and woke up the baby. The father poked a stern face into the room, telling her to quiet down. The child wailed as the mother switched off her star lamp, and then wailed in the irrational hysteria of an overtired three year old for the tree lamp nightlight to be turned off, and then again because her hip itched. The mother stroked her head and shushed her as she writhed and sobbed, and then said to her, "can mama rock you?" The child nodded silently, and climbed into the mother's lap, curling her head down to her tucked in knees. As she sniffled the mother wrapped both arms around the child and began to rock her side to side slowly as she sang,

"Tell me why the stars do shine, tell me why the ivy twines, tell me why the sky's so blue, and then I'll tell you just why I love you. Because God made the stars to shine, because God made the ivy twine, because God made the sky so blue, because God made you, that's why I love you."

The child's breathing slowed after a few minutes, and her tensed body relaxed and grew heavy in the mother's arms. A few minutes more the mother swayed with the child before she placed her, sound asleep in her bed. She spent a moment studying her face, suddenly filled with gratitiude, realizing it had been over a year since she had last rocked the child to sleep.

The next morning the child grimaced as the mother planted a kiss which she felt to be entirely too wet on her forehead. She refused to change out of her nighty or share toys with the baby. The mother didn't mind that day though because she knew that no matter how independent the child insisted on being, she still needed her mama, every once in a while, to rock her to sleep.