It was a Sunday morning when the nurse came into my room and tells me that the doctor has released us and we can go home. We had been there since Saturday morning. Your father and I went to the hospital that Friday evening but they sent us home. I was not ready yet is what they said. I sure felt ready. I mean the signs where all there. Pain, contractions, phone calls to the family and bags by the door. Yup we or rather I was ready. Scared but ready. I will not share the labor details or describe the whole labor experience. I would not like to scare you out of having your own experience some day. I will say that I made it a point to forget it because if I kept the memory you would be an only child. Hence you have a brother. Besides, labor is labor. Painful, messy and you just want it all to be over fast!

24hrs later you were born. It’s a girl. Great! That’s what I thought you was going to be and what I wanted you to be; a girl. A girl so I can dress up like a doll. Comb your hair in two pigtails and show you off. I also only had a girl’s name so…. They put you on my chest and I hugged you. I kissed you and hugged you. Wow the feeling was indescribable. The minute I laid my tired eyes on you I knew you was going to change my life. You cried when they were cleaning you and preparing you for me and the rest of the family. It broke my heart to hear you cry. It sounded like you were scared and calling me to rescue you. I turned to you and said. “It’s ok. It’s ok mommy’s here. Mommy’s here.” Immediately you stopped crying. The nurses looked at each other in shock. One of them turned to the doctor and said, “You see they do know the mothers voice. They do! I told you they do.” Everyone in the room was in aww. Silence controlled the delivery room and the only thing you heard was the staff cleaning up, putting things away and shuffling medical utensils around.

The day we were set to leave the nurse came into the room to check on us. She was very young looking and very sweet. She took you out of your crib held you one last time. She tickled your chin and gave you the gentlest smile and said take very good care of her and you. She then placed you back in your crib which was across from my bed and left the room. I began to dress you in an all-white Italian hand knitted outfit. You looked like an angel. Your skin was like coffee with extra cream. It blended beautifully against your clothes. The only thing missing were your angel wings. I remember instructing your father to make sure that the house was clean and the dogs were put outside before bringing you home from the hospital. I did not want any bacteria lingering around waiting to touch you and harm your perfect skin. Everything had to be sanitized before it came near you. No harm would penetrate your skin. No harm could come near you! Everything had to be perfect. I remember washing everything by hand three times months prior to your arrival with Dreft which, was the soap that was used to wash baby’s clothes. Dreft was a soap that was free of dye and chemicals, harmless to a baby’s skin. This was perfect! Music to my ears. I still did a little research on baby soap and found that although Dreft was a very good and the appropriate soap for babies it was not good enough for my little angel. So, I went out and bought organic soap. You must understand I didn’t want anything to harm your perfect skin. Dreft was just fine but I felt I could do better. Yes, I was a bit overboard. I ironed everything a few times. Even right before putting anything on you or around you. I made sure that it was clean and or steamed. A few times even. Yes, I was a bit overboard. I needed to make sure that there wasn’t any germs or bacteria lingering around. No harm would penetrate your delicate skin. When I brought you home I remember holding you in my arms and wondering did I read enough books or parenting magazines? Had I done enough research on raising a child? How could they let me bring you home? They never asked me any questions to ensure that I was fit to take care of you. I mean before you can take a car off a lot you must show that you have a license and insurance. So why didn’t anyone check to see if I was qualified to bring this little angle home. I didn’t have any certifications to prove that I was trust worthy. Was I ready to bring you home? I always felt I should have read more or learned more or read more or taken parenting classes. How can they do that. Hand, you to me, and tell me you were ready to go home with me. I only had 9months to prepare for you. To research all I needed to do to raise you to be strong, confident, smart, educated, bad-ass and delicate. A fearless woman.

I wrapped you up in a blanket and brought you home.

The nurse told me to always check your temperature in case you caught an infection or something went wrong. I did just that. Every two hours I checked your temperature. Later that evening I notice that the thermometer was showing that your temperature was getting a bit high. I wrapped you up in two blankets and began to look around as if to spot the bacteria that was beginning to invade my little angel. I found nothing. I checked your temperature and found that it got worse. Your temperature was over 100. I called the doctor. All I can think of was that your father didn’t clean as thorough as I asked him to and you contracted some bacteria and now you were dying. I know; a bit overboard again. I got the answering service at the doctor’s office. What the answering service. WHAT THE FUCK! My angel is dying from some bacteria that her father did not get rid of and I get the Fucking answering service. Leave a message for the doctor and she will call you back, is what they said. So, I did. I left a message. I waited five minutes and proceeded to take you to the emergency room. The phone rang and it was the doctor. She asked me a few questions and then instructed me to take off all the blankets and clothing I had put on you. Leave her in diapers and her tee-shirt she told me. Give her some water and you will see that her temperature will start to go back to normal. She’s fine. She’s just hot. The doctor went on and on explain what had happened. Basically, she said I S-Mother-ed her and your body was reacting to it. Guilt rushed in and I began to doubt that I was the right person for the job.

One night I placed you in your bassinet. I had bathed you and clothed you with your soft onesie, the one with the pale flowers on it and the little cap to ensure that no cool draft would touch your little head. I covered you with a blanket and turned off the light. A few hours passed and I began to hear someone whispering telling me to wake up and check on you. So, I jumped up and ran to you. There I found you chocking on your blanket. You must have gotten hungry and began to suck on your fist which was covered with your blanket. I pulled the blanket out of your mouth and off you. I threw it on the floor and took everything else that was around you away from you. I picked you up and held you the rest of the night. I was mad at myself. I felt stupid and not qualified for this job. Guilt kept rushing in accompanied by doubt. I S-Mother-ed you again. Was I the right person for the job? From that day forward nothing was in around you when I put you down in your crib.

I remember I cooked all your food from scratch. (I still do.) I would stay up until 2am preparing all your food and even your juice. One day you became ill because you ate something other than my food. I took you to the doctor and it was clear it was my fault. I never exposed you to outside food strengthening your immune system. I was afraid that you would get some bacteria and die. I know again a bit overboard. No harm could come near you. Guilt set in once again. I S-Mother-ed you. All though, for the past 18 years I have taken care of you, I have always doubted if I was right for the job. I have questioned if I did enough? I pushed you and demanded excellence from you but it was to make sure that you were raised strong and accomplished. I checked on you when you did not know. I let you think that you needed to handle things on your own but, it was to make you strong. I put bandages on your boo boos and sometimes kissed them. I also let you put your own bandages on your cuts because sometimes you need to care for your injuries yourself. I sterilized your bottles, cups, pacifiers, hair pins etc. No harm would penetrate your skin. I S-Mother-ed you but I also let you fall and pick yourself back up.

I look at you now that you are 18 years old and I wonder; did I do enough S-Mother-ing. Should I have done more? 18 years old. 18 years old.  You changed my life every day for the past 18years.  You are making life choices and might or might not get a higher education. There is a possibility that you will get your heartbroken or that you might be a great scientist. There is a possibility that you make a wrong choice like eat something crazy or not do your laundry. There is a possibility that you might have a regular job with a caring heart. You might be afraid to explore the world because I S-Mother-ed you too much. Did I do enough? Did I fail you? Can I get another chance to raise you because I just thought of a bunch of things I should have done or could have done? Like read to you more or talked to you more. Or hugged you more. Enrolled you in a private school or paid for those horseback riding lessons. Maybe dance classes? I should have kept you in gymnastics. I should have…. I should have…. I could have done more. I could have S-Mother-ed you less and then more. You see my dear Smothering is what mothers do when they are being a mother. You see my dear without Mother you can’t spell Smother. It’s in the word. S-Mother-ed is what I knew I needed to do because I was doing my job as a mother. So, when you feel S-Mother-ed you should know that I am doing my job and you are being loved by your mother. Me! Love you Mumuma!

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