Last night I had a dream.
I was in a hospital waiting room trying to call my husband who was
home with the kids. I had been told that I would eventually lose my eyesight. I
had a choice to make; have surgery or wait until I painfully lost my sight. In
my dream I realized that if I went through with the surgery I would never see
my children's faces again.
My decision was made.
…
On a beautiful August day in 2010, I was riding my bicycle on the
bike trail near my parents' home. I heard a bell behind me warning that a
cyclist would pass. I turned around and my tires slipped off the trail. With my
foot stuck in my pedal cage I fell hard onto my left side, and slid along the
pavement. As I fell, my arm instinctively tried to protect my stomach.
I was five months pregnant.
At the emergency room the nurse focused on cleaning and bandaging
my arm and leg. The medical staff didn't feel the urgency that I felt.
Was my baby OK?
Two days later I had a scheduled ultrasound and was able to see my
beautiful, healthy, unharmed, unborn baby.
I then allowed myself to feel the pain in my body.
…
This past Saturday was my son's fourth birthday party. His friends
arrived and began playing together. I soon began to feel a stabbing pain in my
right breast. I nursed the baby and handed him to my mother; this made it
easier to ignore the discomfort.
Three hours later the pain had intensified. My legs became sore.
Chills began and I began to shake as a fever set in. At 11 p.m. I called the doctor. He told me to go the
emergency room.
My husband and I talked and looked at our sleeping baby whom we
would have to bundle up and take into the cold. My in-laws could care for our
toddler (they were sleeping over for the birthday party) but I couldn't leave
my nursing baby home.
I decided not to go to the hospital unless my fever returned. The
next morning I began treatment for Mastitis.
…
These three moments tell a similar story: My relationship to my
body has changed in complicated and unexpected ways.
My body nurtured the growth of two lives. It fed two babies. Yet,
it’s more than that.
Five years ago my body’s care was selfish. If I was sick I would
go to the doctor, call out sick from work and stay in bed all day.
Now it cares for two small children and every decision I make for
myself is driven by how it will help or hurt my children.
By no means does this mean I am reckless in ignoring my needs—because
I know if I am not healthy, I can't care for them.
Becoming a mother, however, changed my understanding of selflessness.
It’s a change that I did not expect and that I struggle to
explain. It does not just mean fewer dates with my partner or fewer moments to
myself. Being a mom has redefined my relationship with my body and how I care
for it.
And, this new way of viewing myself is worth all the discomfort
and pain.
When I watch my toddler dance in the kitchen while my
seven-month-old gives me open mouth kisses on my cheek, I’m aware that the
muscle in my chest feels like it may burst.
And I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
