Why all mothers are Crazy

I understand today why all mothers are crazy. It is an observation I've made for many years, beginning as a teenager - I don't know one single mother who is totally normal. They worry way too much, have irrational fears or emotional outbursts or are controlling etc. I was really hoping to avoid being that and even thought I had a chance since being aware of a danger can usually aid in preventing it.

But Today, my baby fell onto the floor. I wasn't in the room, I wasn't even in the house. Both his parents were using his nap time to do some gardening and from outside I heard a thump. My first thought, with a primal ache inside of me in some place I didn't know I had, was "dear god, please don't let that be my baby." And as my feet were running to the door my mind was racing to find any other explanation for that sound and by the time I was helpless in that, I saw his tiny curled up body, face down on the floor and he was wailing.

I was crying, I was screaming: I picked him up and held him, shutting my eyes against what I was afraid I would see and I asked Peep, who was right behind me to look. I asked, "Is he okay? Is he okay?" through my tears. (Writing about this makes my stomach churn) Peep was shockingly calm when he answered that he was fine.

And I am afraid that little incident may have finally shattered the glass of my sanity and I am filing into the ranks of motherhood. And I understand it now.

In other things in life, when we fail, we have the option to quit. We pick up the violin and it sounds terrible - We feel bad for a minute but then we put it down and move on to something else. Or even when the stakes are higher: we crash our car and hurt someone, we can say we will never drive again, and so on. But in this task, we do not have the option to quit. I felt it today - like I have failed so badly there is no going forward, and my mind wanted to take me down that familiar route of coping - "let it go, move on" but I couldn't budge. I'm here for life. He's still my baby, he's still in my arms and he could fall again and what's to say I can do a better job then. And I'm only 2 months in.

I spent the rest of the evening traumatized, hearing him fall all over the house and jerking my head around to see him, happy and gurgling. I saw that this was 10 times harder on me than it was on him. And then I saw the future - this is only the beginning - he will fall again, harder even.

Any time people have talked to me about parenting being hard, this is what they meant. I've been saying, "No, we get plenty of sleep." "He really doesn't cry that much." "He's such an easy baby." but they weren't talking about those things. Today was my initiation. And it turns out there's no chance of dodging that bullet, even though I saw it coming a long way away and had plenty of time.