Mentoring Mondays: The Whoa Moment...

Another amazing post by future Maddies mama... Aymee. Loving your posts mimi... :)

The “Whoa” Moment

I don’t know about you, but every once in a while, I have moments where the earth seems to stop spinning on its axis and the gravity of a situation hits me hard. This usually only happens during major life milestones. Graduating high school, getting married, turning 25: these are all instances where, for me, time stopped for a moment and I thought to myself, “whoa.” Either the reality of being pregnant hasn’t hit me yet, or I am very serene about it. I haven’t been able to decipher which one. Adam seems to be breaking this “oh my god” freak-out moment into smaller, more manageable panics and lubricating them with whiskey. He says I was born to be a mother. Yes, in a scientific sense: this is what I’m designed to do, and so maybe that plays a big role. Because this is my most primal purpose, I’m not having that moment of “whoa?” Has nature taken over and put my conscious on autopilot? What I fear is that I’m not taking this seriously enough. As soon as I typed that out, I realized how ridiculous that is. I’m on my second baby book, I religiously follow the dietary suggestions, track weight gain, exercise with the proper restrictions/precautions, I read and play games with my unborn child for brain stimulation. But at the same time, I haven’t had that world-stopping moment. In the first trimester, I would say, “It hasn’t hit me yet because I need to feel her kick.” But that wasn’t it. I’m now in the third trimester where she kicks all the time, and it’s still so surreal. It’s like a movie; as if any minute now, a director will yell “Cut,” the walls of my apartment will part to reveal a set with cameras and crew, and someone will bring me bottled water and powder my nose.

              Throughout most of my childhood and teenage years, I was so focused on growing up that I didn’t often stop to smell the roses. My first “whoa” memory is sitting on one of hundreds of plastic folding chairs in the middle of the UMSL gymnasium floor amongst my peers, a sea of red caps and gowns. The gym was humming with over a thousand people, students, teachers, parents and other family, talking all at once. After the speeches, I watched as one by one, each row was lead up to the stage. As I was standing in line on the ramp next to the stage, waiting for my name to be called, I thought, “This is it.” The only chapter in my life I could remember was now closing and another chapter was opening before me at the other end of that stage: one that held mysteries as deep as the ocean or space. They do a good job of trying to prepare you for what’s on the other side. I had a plan for my future; I had it all figured out (ha ha). But no one can accurately convey what it will feel like in that very moment when all you know is ending.

              My next “whoa” memory is from my wedding day (I had two that day). I especially love these for obvious reasons. Adam and I both woke up that morning without an alarm clock, refreshed and relaxed. Adam wanted to do nothing that day but keep relaxing until the big event, so he went and did his own thing while I made last minute errands and preparations for the wedding that night (this is my version of relaxing). After decorating the club with my mom’s help, I picked up the flower to wear in my hair from the florist and leisurely got ready at my apartment. In my perfect black strapless satin cocktail dress with tiny velvet polka dots and vintage heels, looking and feeling like a million bucks, I got into my car and drove to the club. On the road, everything seemed to slow down. The air felt heavier to breathe. My skin tingled. I felt like I was floating. I don’t remember the song on the radio now, but it was perfect for the moment. These were the last few minutes of my life that I would be a single woman. After that my life would never be the same, and I knew it. Much like graduating high school, I didn’t know what lie on the other side of that stage. But Unlike graduating, I knew Adam was a part of that unknown and that made it less scary, and more exciting. As I pulled into the parking lot of the club, life came back up to speed. The night went on as planned. The crowd waiting outside was let in and the tiny club packed wall to wall with friends, relatives, and even a few strangers there to see the bands. There was that humming again. The hum of a hundred or so people talking at once. It was time to start the show. I began looking around for the people we needed: our friend who was to marry us—check, my mom (and maid of honor)—check, Adam’s best man—check, and Adam…where was Adam? The room started to spin. I saw a sea of faces but not the one of my fiancé. An ounce of panic started to boil in my stomach. And then at that very moment, I heard “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys (our intro music) replace the hum of the crowd. The room stopped spinning, and at the center, right in front of me, was Adam. Our eyes locked, and we both smiled a smile that I can only imagine happening again when we hold Madeline in our arms for the first time.

              Maybe I’ll have that “whoa” moment when she’s born and we lock eyes for the first time. Oh god, I can’t wait.