3am squirmy fits

(first posted on Multiply)

So much for promising myself I’d post something profound for a first blog…who would’ve thought I’d think of something better?! Somehow, everything that has to do with Jaira, my three-month old baby girl, is just simply better.

Last night at 3am I awoke to her constant squirming beside me, sweet little grunts that I knew meant, “Mommy, I want dede!” And so off I go to the makeshift milk prep table in our room where Jaira’s can of Enfalac A+ (we welcome sponsors, yes!) sat, nearly half-empty (or half-full to promote positive thinking?). I mentally computed how much cash we had left and figured we better buy another can on Saturday, sweldo day. Sigh.

A bottle and one less drippy nappy later, Jaira was still far from sleepy, cooing and flashing me her irresistible smiles. Good thing I already submitted to the fact that yes, 3am can also be playtime. And 1am and 2am as well. OK, 5am can count, too.

She conked out a little past four. Yay. I still had about half an hour to rest before getting ready for work. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind.

And I didn’t mind too when I was late for work because I changed her nappies, yet again, and played “where’s mommy’s hand?” with her right before I was supposed to leave the house.

What is it with becoming a mom? I wouldn’t have had the patience for these sorts had it been the old me. So I’d have more time for the myriads of things I used to, and hope to do…but I’d never ever be the happiest 24-year-old alive, like I am now.

I had wanted to go through the labor-room-horror-experience-of-a-lifetime stories I always had handy for those who asked. And circumstances would supposedly preempt me to go on and on about the slim (na sana ako na lang, diba?) bank account, the sleep deprivation, the insecurity and what-nots. But surprisingly, I don’t. Aside from the fact that Raffy (yes, we’re married now, for those who wonder. hehe) would hate me for it—somehow this husband of mine has mastered the art of positive thinking--whining just doesn’t quite seem to fit in the Jaira-picture of my life today. OK, “reduced to hopeful dreaming aloud” is what my usual whining’s really turned into, I guess. Still better than whining. :-)

Thanking God is now easier, too, I find. Work still sucks and I still have baby fat, blah, blah, blah, but there’s reason to smile everyday. Even during the 3am episodes, somehow the mental picture of Jaira blossoming into a beautiful girl and growing up to be my bestfriend just makes my heart burst. Which I find freaky, of course, since I never dreamt of being my mom’s BFF when I was a kid, up til now actually (and it’s corny but it’s how we’ve now become! I guess it’s that way when daughters become mothers, huh?). But what the hey.