Lies, lies and more lies

My daughter is starting primary school tomorrow. (She's 4 - that's when they start here in Ireland). Apparently the first day is only an hour long and is a party. I didn't enquire into the details of said party, but assumed there would be name tags, snacks, and maybe a game. My daughter has been suspiciously quiet about the looming watershed of starting Big School, so I was trying to chat to her a bit about it today. She started asking me about when I started school when I was a little girl, and I assured her that my first day was a party too. "Really? Tell me all about that, mommy," she said, perking up.

I cannot remember a single thing about my first day at school, so I made some stuff up. "Uh, we sang some songs," I said, my mind racing for ideas. "Then we played a game, and had cupcakes." She wanted to know fine details about the game, the songs, and what kind of cake. I can't remember what I said. Hopefully whatever they do at the Party tomorrow will eclipse any stories I made up today. This could get me in trouble. Especially if there is no cake.

ephemeral, eternal

I feel like I should try and explain how it feels to have a baby; all I can do is attempt to explain how it felt to have my baby. One thing I think all mothers are in agreement with, though. It rocks your world, truly. It's your Samurai Warrior trial. It's the Reckoning. It's Armageddon. The baby is coming whether you like it or not.

A digression: it often occurs in discussion, and literature, this crux of the delivery experience where the mother tries to opt out. For me, it was the moment when, after four hours of painful labor and dramatic waters breaking, I said to my husband, in a small voice, "I'm not sure I can do this." I guess I hoped he'd spring into action and run at the midwife shouting "She can't do this, woman! Sort it out!" I did end up projecting on the anaesthesiologist (sp?) that he was the antichrist, for not showing up - but then, I did let it go an awfully long time. It seems I wanted to feel the pain, for a while. Not like with my first. I was anxious to get drugged asap with her.

Anyway, this is the reason women (child bearing ones anyway) have a unique sisterhood that men can never understand. (sorry.) I have been through medical Hades - disastrous accident, several major surgeries, long spells in ICU, ongoing physical traumas - and can say for sure that childbirth is the most painful and scary of them all. But maybe that is because you are so anxious for the the little baby you have produced. All you want is to see that little face. And body. And adorable little toes...again I digress.

Having a new baby in my arms is the happiest feeling I have ever felt. And if that sounds generic, let me put it this way: the feeling is proportional to the saddest you've ever felt. Like, if your dad died (mine did) and you saw your mom cry. It's as happy as that is sad.

I wonder if any men read this blog. How do you feel, really, when your children are born? It must be unique in its own way.