Flawless

“The baby is doing just fine Ms. Jenn. You’re a natural,” whispers the nurse, Ms. Thelma as she finishes up her routine vital check of the baby’s heartbeat, breathing, and temperature. Yesterday, Ms. Thelma was a complete stranger but now she seems like the older sister I never had.

“Thanks Ms. Thelma, you’re the best.” I say, as she slowly pulls the door closed leaving me alone with my brand new baby. The hospital room is cramped. I’m sitting on the bed encased in metal framing with a slow-moving lifting apparatus underneath. Beside me there’s an empty rolling bassinette with a clear plastic sides each having an ID sticker with the handwritten name ‘Katie’. There are two narrow and elegant glass flower vases and some congratulatory cards neatly arranged on the window sill. One of the vases is from my friends at work and the other is from my Dad who lives two hours away but decided to send flowers rather than visit. Yet another man in my life who chooses to keep his distance.

The room is quiet. The doctors, nurses, visitors, photos, monitors, and beeping machines are all gone. The television is turned off and the lights are dim. The room is mostly lit by the bright blue lights of the digital clock that beam 2:35AM.

And it’s just me and her. She’s all swaddled up in a soft white cotton blanket with just her tiny sleeping face exposed. It’s just now sinking in that my whole life has changed. I just can’t stop staring at Katie, my newborn daughter. I need to get used to saying the name… Katie.

Although I am exhausted and weary, it’s such a peaceful moment being here with her right now. I feel like I can watch her sleep forever as she takes each calming breath, one after the other. I’m holding her in both my arms and it feels as though I’m completely surrounding her and at the same time surrounded by her. I start to get caught up in the moment. The stillness, tranquility, and her rhythmic breathing create an overwhelming and overpowering moment. The tears build. I continue to gaze at this amazing, tiny creation. As the tears start falling I have a profound realization – that I’m holding one of the world’s most precious miracles. At this very moment there is one certainty I know with all my being to be true; Katie is flawless. She is truly a gift to the world.

A twinge of fear and panic immediately follow as I begin to grasp my role in her life. I intently whisper to her, “I promise to always be there for you. I promise that I will be the best mom I can be. I promise that we will never have the strained relationship that I have with my mother.”

Just as those words left my lips, there was even more of a shift in me. I became lit with an entirely different emotion. Just like a clear blue sky suddenly casting over with dark grey clouds, my words started coming out in a less loving and more resentful way.

“I promise I will let you decide who you fall in love with and no matter who he is I will love him like he’s my own son.” With my teeth clinched, I continued to mumble promises to this tiny new stranger sleeping in my arms.

“I promise I won’t scream at you when you bring home a stray kitten. I promise I won’t punish you when you forget to put the milk back in the refrigerator.” My whispers now had an edge of bitterness.

“I promise I won’t level you with my eyes when you make the smallest mistake, like not tucking in the sheets right or not folding your napkin properly.”

“I promise I won’t hang up on you when you’re six months pregnant and asking for help.”

After that last one, I pause. I put the brakes on the resentful tirade and take a deep breath. “Get a grip! Jenn.” I say to myself trying to get the emotional train back on the tracks.

With a small chuckle I found a bit of humor in where that train ended up. Here I am making promises to my newborn daughter by digging up every painful wound I ever had with my mother. It was still weighing on me having not spoken to my mom in three months and at a time when I felt like I needed her the most. We had a heated argument on the phone. We both said things that we wish we could take back. It ended when she abruptly hung up on me. Neither one of us called back.

Katie, still sound asleep, takes a deep breath and reminds me of her presence. My attention shifts back to Katie. Asking her as much as asking myself, I say aloud, “How can I be sure I will follow through on the promises I just made to you? How can I be sure that I don’t become my mom?”

That question really bothers me but I’m not sure why.

And then something profound occurs to me, at one point in the past I was this tiny baby; and my mom was having this exact same conversation with me. And even farther back in time, my mom was the tiny baby and her mother was having the same conversation with her. And the same happened with my Nana many years before that.

How do we go from being flawless and miraculous to being flawed adults filled with guilt, shame, fear, anger, and resentment?

I contemplated this cyclical mother-daughter connection that begins one way – adoring her in your arms - and then changes over time – into arguing and abandoning her when she needs you the most.

My mind goes blank. I have no answers.

Just then, the door to my hospital room opens slowly. I see my mom peek around the door along with a gentle knock-knock. With an apology written all across her face, she treads lightly through the cluttered room toward us.  “Hi Jenny, I’ve been driving all night. I couldn’t wait to see you.” She said humbly.

There is a moment of silence as our eyes connect.

She has an expression that tells me she wishes she could rewind the clock and start everything all over again. Waiting for any hint of forgiveness from me, she has yet to acknowledge the baby or the fact that she is a brand new grandmother.  

Something seems different. I’m not sure if I changed or if she did but now when I see her– for the first time - I don’t see the mother that mercilessly brushed out the tangles in my hair or the mother who ripped out the pages of my yearbook after a shouting contest. I see a vulnerable and frightened old lady. She is weathered like she’s had a lifetime of being knocked down and yet somehow finds the strength to keep getting back up. She appears to be seeking out moments – moments like this one - that will help her forget about her own pain, guilt, loneliness, and suffering. She looks as if she has fought many battles: battles with her own family and battles with herself. Battles that left scars that I could now – for the first time - clearly see.

That’s it! That is the answer. It all makes sense now. As we grow up, we treat our children the way we see ourselves. Mom had beaten herself up over the years. She let fear and guilt get the best of her. She felt less than worthy, less than wanted, and flawed. And those beliefs splintered all of her relationships – including the one with her own daughter. Over the years I was so focused on wanting her time, attention and approval that it never occurred to me she may have needed mine.

In that moment of silence deciding just how to react to Mom’s surprise visit, I made a silent commitment to Katie: Thirty years from now when you become a new mom, I will not be a guilt-ridden and regretful woman when I meet my grandchild for the first time. And the only way to fulfill this commitment is to start viewing myself differently – to view myself as capable, empowered, worthy of the affection of others, and… flawless.

All of the painful experiences I’ve had with Mom over the years have all led to this moment of realizing who I have to become and the changes I must make to be the mother that Katie deserves. Now I can see it clearly. In a way, Mom sacrificed her own happiness, her own goals, and her own life to show me how important it really is to view yourself as flawless. Having this new outlook about who I am and who I choose to be, and realizing that forgiveness is probably the best first step, I break the silence, “I’m glad you’re here, Mom. Thank you for coming.”

The worry vanished from her face as she smiled, “You’re a mother now. I can’t believe it.” She says as she glances down at sleeping Katie.  “She is so precious. She’s so lucky to have you as her Mom.”

I smiled back, “And she’s lucky to have you as her grandma.”