Parenting 101: No instructions included

 The first time I held my newborn in my arms, I experienced a myriad of emotions ... from joy and wonder to anxiety and trepidation. I had created life and the resulting miracle was a living, breathing part of me. The tiny bundle of joy I held close to my heart was completely dependent on me and at 28, I felt ready for the task ... even as I silently wished for an instruction manual. Every single moment brough some new joy or wonder. I examined all ten fingers and toes ... and smoothed my hand over the fine blond hair that covered his scalp. He was so perfect, and fit into my arms as if made for them. The mantle of motherhood settled comfortably over me as I bonded with my son. Now was my time to savor the joys of parenting, to create a lifetime of worthy memories.

In those first wondrous hours, a peaceful contentedness enveloped me. I savored the simple joy of watching my tiny newborn sleep and thrilled at the incredible closeness we shared as he sought nourishment and comfort at my breast. For me, a life long goal had been attained. I was finally a mother. When not reveling in the unique joy that only a brand new parent experiences, I found myself contemplating the future as intermittent waves of anxiety coursed through me.

I had little experience with newborns, none of it recent. I graduated from nursing school when I was 18 and remembered spending time in the newborn nursery. Of course, the strongest memory I had of that time was when it was quiet and all the babies were sleeping ... some of us would gently thump the soles of a baby's feet, just so he or she would awaken and we could hold them. I remember sitting in the newborn nursery in a rocking chair and holding a newborn close ... inhaling the unique scent of a tiny baby's head and yearning for motherhood.

When I took my tiny baby home, my life felt complete. I dressed him, and held him, and fed him ... and surrounded him with maternal love. I remember watching him sleep contentedly in a bassinette at my side. During that first week at home, my mother stayed with us (she'd flown 3000 miles from one coast to the other, to share in the delight of my first child) and as I reached in to pick him up, she counseled me about not waking him. I scoffed at her advice, remembering my time in the newborn nursery, and savored the thrill of cradling my tiny newborn.

In those early weeks, I can remember changing his clothes endlessly and sighing with contentment and delight as I lavished attention on my tiny bundle of joy. It was very much like having a living doll. I dressed him and undressed him. I bathed him in a small plastic baby tub on my kitchen counter and remember how he cried during his first bath. As a new mother, I hadn't quite figured out the appropriate bathwater temperature and by the time I slipped his naked body into the water, it had chilled enough for him to let me know, in no uncertain terms, that it was not the least bit comfortable. Filled with anxiety, I was undaunted by that initial, somewhat unpleasant experience and quickly learned just how warm to make the water so that we would enjoy bathtime. Days turned into weeks, and then months. Before I knew it, he was sitting in the kitchen sink, splashing me with unabashed delight.

As my newborn grew, so did his appetite. After a few short months, mother's milk just wasn't enough. Though we both cherished the unprecedented bond established and maintained as he nursed, it became time to introduce him to the world of solid food as well. We started with baby cereal and soon moved on to the marvelous variety of mashed and strained goodies Gerber could provide. By the time he had passed his first birthday, he was eating any number of 'table foods'. The trick was helping him to sample a wide variety of foods, and encouraging him to continue to do so as he developed personal preferences.

Teaching my young son to talk was another delight. When the simple words he spoke finally began to make sense, I delighted in each new word he spoke. I found myself repeating everything he said, in an effort to show that I understood him. I remember clearly the first time he actually put two words together to form a short, but distinct sentence. I was preparing lunch and had decided to give him a hot dog. He looked at me, held out one tiny hand and said "Don't cut." I beamed as I handed it to him; savoring his satisfaction as he held the treat in his tiny fist.

There were many lessons learned as my first child made his way through the trials and tribulations of toddlerhood. By the time he was ready for kindergarden, our family increased in size and his younger brother was born. A year and a half later, I gave birth to a little girl and our family was complete. I had filled the backseat of my car ... and discovered the incredible joys of parenthood. By the time my daughter came along, I felt as if I had passed Parenting 101 with flying colors.

My children and I have learned a lot from each other over the years (and we continue to do so). Parenting is an endless learning experience ... one I would not trade for the world. 

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