On Becoming a Mother or Terri Becomes a Woman
On June 23, 1985, I underwent a metamorphosis. I was a new woman. Reborn, as it were. On that early Sunday morning, I became a mother.
Tom and I had been married just three short months, when I discovered I was pregnant. It was certainly a joyful time, but also a scary one. My husband was just 20 years old, and I was only 22. We’d had a large traditional Catholic wedding with a full Mass. Our reception was one that our guests would remember fondly for years to come, with 150 guests, a family style dinner, a versatile DJ and an open bar until midnight.
My mother was gravely ill, succumbing to metastatic breast cancer fast. Sadly, she would live only 15 more days. Still, I have wonderful memories of that awesome day. After my mother passed away, I became quite lonely, as we had been very close, as close as a mother and daughter could possibly be. I longed for her, or for something that I could love as much as I loved her. So, I got the wild idea that my new husband and I should have a baby.
Tom was not quite 20 when we were married. What a good sport he was! We probably would have waited to get married, but both of us dearly wanted my mother to be able to attend our wedding, so we moved the date up. Tom had not planned on having a baby so soon after our marriage, but as he would many times in the future, he agreed to my cockamamie idea.
My husband barely had to smile at me, and we discovered I was pregnant! It was a normal pregnancy, with the expected morning sickness, GERD and quickening at four months gestation. I was in my glory!
On June 22, 1985, in the early morning hours, just one year and eight days married, I began to have very light, easy labor pains. I thought, “This is going to be a breeze!” How naïve I was!
After 26 hours of labor (2 hours of pushing), my sweet little son, Thomas John V, was born by C-section, at 8 lbs. 5-1/2 oz. and 22 inches long. I was in love all over again! When the nurse handed me my quivering newborn son, I was a bit nervous, wondering when they were going to provide the manual to me too. But I thought to myself, how will I hold him and hold the manual at the same time? I’d work it out! I could do anything! I was a mom now. I missed my own mom very much, but I knew after the ordeal I went through having this little perfect being, I could do anything!
As soon as the nurse left the room, Tom and I got to the business at hand. No, we did not nurse our new baby and no, we did not cuddle him and welcome him into the world. I laid this little thing down on the bed and quickly began to remove his clothes. My husband didn’t quite understand what I was doing, but as soon as I said, “I’m going to count his fingers and toes,” he was on board. Together, we practically tore at this poor little baby’s sleeper and finally got him down to his diaper. We were both relieved and thankful to count 10 fingers and 10 toes. Everything else seemed to be in order, except there was one strange thing on this baby that I didn’t quite recognize. What about this little spouty thing here? Was that?! Could that be? I had never seen an uncircumcised penis before. I couldn’t be sure my son was 100% o.k. My young husband took one quick look and assured me that our son was perfect. We quickly redressed him and rested and marveled at this new little creature, while I waited for the nurse to bring me the manual. It would be an extra treat to get a PowerPoint presentation too.
As you already know, the manual and PowerPoint presentation never surfaced, much to my chagrin. I wondered, “How can one be entrusted to the most important job in the world without a manual?!” I was gutted! I guessed I would have to rely on trial and error and the help of my sister, a mom of two by then. My father wasn’t going to be any help, for at the time, I didn’t think he knew a thing about parenting.
While in the hospital, recuperating from the C-section delivery, my baby was cared for during nights, and I was left to rest. I had no idea what I was in for. The first night we brought little Tommy home, I fell asleep quickly with the sweet little sleeping child next to me in the beautiful bassinet we had especially purchased just for him. Two hours later, in splendid slumber, I would hear the strange and far away sound of a bleating lamb. I would wonder when the annoying lamb would stop its whining just as it got louder. I can remember suddenly realizing, “Oh my God, what have I done?” I was totally not prepared for interrupted sleep, but I would soon find out that I could look forward to many sleepless nights of frantically turning the pages of Dr. Spock’s Baby Book, and my poor husband walking the little waling bag of poop from the front of the apartment to the back over and over again.
After three solid months of apartment walking, late night baths and 2 a.m. car rides, our newborn son seemed to settle in pretty well. I even thought he might like us a bit. He turned out to be a pretty easy going fellow after all. His precious baby smiles and coos made me quickly forget that 26-hour labor and all those sleepless nights of trying to figure out what he wanted from us. Yes, I would forget all that drama… for another blissful 15 months, until the second one was born…
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