We hear a lot about moms’ first reactions when they see their newborn. So in our future-mom mind, it’s going to be just perfect.
But in the back of our heads, we can’t help thinking about what can go wrong with our baby.
I lived the ups and downs of that.
During the fifth month’s ultrasound (so basically the big one, where the anatomy is studied and usually when the bad news occur), my gynecologist finished by saying: « Both of your babies are doing great, but your daughter has a small « particularity » ». My heart started beating extremely fast to the sound of that.
He explained that she had a deformity in her feet. He said that it can be treated. The treatment, nonetheless, is long and involves seeing her go through different annoying stages of « fixing ».
I obviously didn’t take that too well. I dreamed, like many people, of the day I can see their tiny feet. All of a sudden, I started having nightmares (which, by the way, isn’t that rare with pregnant women) about the kids and in those bad dreams, I could never see her feet. It was one of those wanting-to-grab-something-but-can’t dreams. It was awful.
Salim and I did tons of research. It involved accepting this fact by realizing exactly what it is, and, even harder, having to make a choice between two treatment methods.Those of you who are parents know exactly how difficult it is to choose something that involves your child and their well-being.
I, more than Salim, had my ups and downs. There were days where I thanked God it wasn’t worse, then there were days where I couldn’t bare the idea of my tiny baby having a cast on her tiny tiny feet.
I had a couple of months to be psychologically prepared to this « imperfectness » before my twins were born. But even then, I wasn’t ready.
Diane was born on February 23rd. She was, and still is, absolutely perfect. She is now four months old and is adapting perfectly to her treatment. She’s an inspiration to me, she’s so extremely strong, she makes me ashamed of my weaknesses. She actually started turning over on her belly already and Alexandre, with his « perfect » feet, still hasn’t.
So the answer is yes. Your kids will always be perfect to you, even with their imperfections. I thought I had the time to mourn a perfect child, when really, I didn’t have to.
I’m obviously not saying it wasn’t/isn’t hard. As Salim says, every time we take off her Browne’s splint (http://bit.ly/1pIHkEx) and put it back, we feel like traitors. Nevertheless, to her it became a playing sort of thing, and I realized it is mainly hard for us.
This article is dedicated to my perfect little monsters. And to yours.