When I peed on that stick (What I didn’t know then.)

When I peed on that stick, and, miracle of all miracles, got two lines to appear, I knew that I wanted to be a mother.
I knew that my life was only beginning
and that in living my dream, I would find joy and love like I’d never before imagined.
I knew all of that.
But then, there were also things that I didn’t know.
So. Many. Things.
Basically, all the things that I have done in the past 6 hours, since I first woke up this morning.
Today, I saw my child sick.
And when the emergency care nurses on the phone line told me that she could be seen by her Pediatrician, but only if I could make it there in 15 minutes, I ran…
….to get ready. Ran to throw on clothes over my pajamas. Ran to my sick daughter.
Today, as I raced to get out the door, I had to ignore the fact that my daughter had gotten sick all over my bed.
All over her beloved stuffed animal.
All over my shirt.
Today, I put a fresh shirt over my disgustingly dirty shirt, to get to the Pediatrician on time.
Today, I didn’t make it on time.
Today, I managed to make it to the other doctor’s office just in time to wait an hour for her to be seen.
Today, I fought back tears.
Today, I told a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner that I did not agree with her plan. I told her that I thought she was wrong.
(Today, I was right.)
Today, I got my dehydrated daughter to drink one small cup of diluted Gatorade by squirting it in her mouth with a tiny syringe, one milliliter at a time.
Today, I did the laundry. And I didn’t mess it up.
Today, I couldn’t fight back the tears any longer.
No, when I peed on that stick and saw one line become two, I never imagined that I’d be sitting in a doctor’s office, with tears in my eyes, and knots in my hair, and poop on my clothing. I never imagined that motherhood, in all of its amazing, love-filled, beautiful glory could also, sometimes, feel
(and please excuse me for this/pun inteded)
pretty darn shitty.
But, I did it.
And after my shirt was changed
and hair was combed
and proper Pediatrician was called
and correct medicine was given
I held a sleepy, sick baby in my arms and read her a favorite book.
And sang to her.
You are my sunshine
I sang.
And, my little girl looked up at me,
her tired eyes half closed
and said “Sunshine”.
A new word.
And then I was OK again.
So what I didn’t know then,
way back when when we were just two people with two lines,
was that the little person that was beginning her journey with me
would be my sunshine;
and always, always make me happy when skies are gray.


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