Slowing Down With Superwoman

"Nooo Monny!" I hear when I ask my daughter to come inside for lunch. She's standing up and protecting her toys, with the fierceness of a mama bear protecting her young.

Her will is strong. It used to frustrate me. It reminded me of the stubbornness I saw when I taught angst-y teenagers in middle school. But now I'm learning to respect it, and even protect it.  To feel eager to watch the journeys it will allow her to face in life.

She was born with one fist pointed out into the air. Like Superwoman. She howled and scratched when separated from me for even a few minutes.

"We usually give mothers two hours to rest after delivery. But she seems to want mama now. Would you like us to give her a bottle?" The nurse asked me gently, her eyes showing concern for my need to rest. I said no, that I'd hold her and try to breastfeed.

When the nurse left the room, I'd fret over every newborn look of dissatisfaction. Somehow, I felt she was judging my imperfect efforts at mothering her. But now I realize she was overstimulated by the bright hospital lights, and the constant moving and endless doctors. No one told her where she was going, or who was scooping her up so suddenly.

Those early days she was satisfied with snuggling close to me wherever I went. She'd walk with me downtown or meander a path close to home. She was wrapped up tightly near my chest for comfort, conveniently able to nurse when she wanted. Now she's as lively as a butterfly. Never content sitting in one spot for too long before she floats off to the next thrill to explore.

I now know she needs some control of her own. She also needs to feel acknowledged, and able to play freely without feeling rushed.

Instead of pitting my will against hers, I'm letting her choose her own direction as much as possible. This I've found, has helped me preserve both our pride and sanity. Instead of dragging her out of the park, kicking and screaming - I ask, "would you like to follow me or would you like to go in my wrap?" Or, "would you like a diaper change now, or in 2 minutes?" "Would you like me to comb your hair, or do it yourself?"

She'll peer up at me as if I'd asked her to choose either the moon or the stars.

In these 18 months of togetherness, I've learned a great deal about awareness and slowing down. But most of all, I've learned more about love. Even on the days when they seem filled to the brim with, "nooo Monny!"

Perhaps, especially on those days.