I was not the little girl who dreamed of one day being a mommy. I did not practice my future-mommy skills on baby dolls. To my knowledge I never even had a baby doll. I did have a Barbie doll, but all she inspired in me was the urge to take off her clothes and put her in a doll-sized sleeping bag with Ken to see what happened.
So the day I was presented with my first live, mewling, squishy baby that had allegedly come out of my own body was the day of reckoning. That day was followed by many more frightening and challenging days of reckoning. Despite my apparent lack of natural maternal instinct I handled new motherhood with some semblance of competence. But new motherhood definitely presented me with some firsts that initially had me shaking in my slippers.
Here are just a few of those moments — sometimes recurrent terrifying moments — that I can recall:
The first fingernail trim: I did it once, made my baby bleed and howl in pain, started crying myself, and this task instantly became “Daddy’s job.”
The first real nursing session: I’m referring to that one where the militant morning nurse is standing there watching to see if your baby is latching properly, and you go from Badass to incompetent in an instant.
Hearing the first full-throated cry: I still remember that sound. It came from the back of the car on a cold winter’s night. She was in her car seat. It sounded like a car alarm or a red fox after mid-night. “What is that? Oh my God. Is she dying? Is she in pain? What do we do? Make it stop. Do something, quick!”
The first bath at home: Little babies are slippery and droppable enough when they’re bone dry. Try getting them wet, then adding soap. Enough said.
