Being a good mother to my daughter Edith is the most important part of my life. I’ve learned from being her mother, and this week I share my birth story and my biggest lesson.

12.3.2016

The day Edith was born was the best day of my life. I went into labor on a Friday night and slept through most of the night. The next morning, her dad Jeff and I took a long neighborhood walk. We stopped at our neighborhood cafe where I was given a cookie for my labor. We walked to a diner and heard women share their birth story. The contractions were intermittent and were mild enough to be in public. Each contraction would stop me in my tracts to breathe. We walked and paused and walked again; chit chatting with the neighbors along the way.

At home, I was in the bath with Jeff ensuring the water stayed hot. As the day progressed, so did the contractions. We invited my mom and sister to the birth and the plan was for them to meet us at the hospital. This way, Jeff and I could be alone together. At some point later in the day I vomited and wanted mom. In retrospect, this was time for the hospital, but instead mom came over. One look at me and she said it was time to go. Jeff takes forever to the leave, and this day was no exception. My mom and I waited in the car for him to shave. He was hurried and flustered and entered the car with pieces of tissue to absorb the shaving cuts; it was cute. On the way to the hospital he took a wrong turn.

I got to the hospital at 9 centimeters, pushed three hours, and Edith was born. Her nails were long from being 10 days late and she was perfect. I couldn’t believe this beautiful baby was ours.

As a baby, Edith was a mama’s girl; always elated to see me (and my chi chi’s) and longed for me when I was away. Something happened around three years old, where she started preferring Jeff. I can’t recall when this exactly happened, but it did. She started crying for Jeff, and there was a time or two that I couldn’t console her. This baby that I carried and loved more than life itself, was suddenly rejecting me! And so began my greatest lesson as a mother; accepting rejection.

There are many mother’s I have connected with who relate to this experience; I call it the mother/daughter archetype, which is pretty much the daughter rejecting the mother. One mother recently stated how dad’s get away easy with daughters. I definitely have rejected my mother along the way and was preferential to my dad, but this has faded as I’ve grown. Still though, my mom is the best at reawakening the immature teenager that lays mostly dormant. I’m not sure what I can do to best avoid this seemingly inevitable aspect of mothering, but for now it’s simply to love her and be there for her and prioritize her.