The Clumsy Mommy
June 29, 2009
I'd never spent much time around babies before my daughter was born. I was not one of those responsible teens who babysat in the neighborhood and since I was the baby in my family, I never had younger siblings following me around. So I wasn't surprised to find I was nervous and clumsy around my newborn daughter. My husband and I quickly establish our parenting roles. He was the baby whisperer. The one who consoled our daughter when she cried. The one who instinctually knew how to swaddle. Even the one who was able to change a diaper effortlessly from day one. I was the errand girl. The one who fetched the diapers and wipes when the baby needed changing. The one who heated up the bottle at feeding time. I'm a "to do" kind of person so taking on these responsibilities fit nicely with my personality. I'd clean up messes. Organize the supplies for daycare. Do the stuff that needed to be done and feel good about doing it well. I figured feeling comfortable in my new mommy skin would eventually come with time once I had more experience. But it never did. My daughter is three now and I still dread a trip to the grocery store if I have her in tow. I get nervous just thinking about how I'm going to complete my shopping list and keep my daughter under control at the same time. I think ahead with dread to the self check-out line when I know she'll inevitably climb onto the scanner and demand that I let her ring-up the items. And then in her zest, she'll accidentally ring up several items twice or drop a few breakable items on the floor. Each day is a new experience in just how nervous and uncomfortable I can feel as I'm trying to raise her to be a good, responsible citizen. And then, I watch my husband orbit around her with ease. They play. They laugh. They watch movies. He is perfectly comfortable with his role as a Dad. I on the other hand always have that mother deer caught in the headlights look on my face when I'm in charge. I can't ever just calm down and relax. Motherhood is not a job that comes easily for me. Most days end with me thinking, "I stink at this." But I love this little person I've brought into the world. And on those rare occasions that I experience a brief moment of clarity and peace, I feel complete joy just watching her be. Then the moment is gone, and I'm back to feeling uncomfortable. Feeling like this is a responsibility that is just too big for me. Like I've lied on my resume to get hired for a job I can't really do. I'm the imposter that will eventually be ratted out. But until then, I have to wipe the sweat off my brow and pretend I know what I'm doing. 
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