adequate

My new favorite word is "adequate."

why? because it and its opposite, inadequate, both pretty much mean the same thing. The other day i was moaning about how inadequate i feel as a mother and then Sean "reassured" me by saying, "no.. you are totally ade..quate....*trailing off...*" and then we laughed at how pathetic that sounds.

Funny, right? I love it. Yay for English.

A new parent might feel some guilt regarding their capabilities to raise a child. Why am I suddenly qualified for something so important, valuable. Why do hospitals just let you take home a baby? (Well, for some of us, the interior of your childhood neighbor's mean demon dog that scared the bleep out of you's doghouse might be a better domain for your baby than the hospital. But moving on.) But you do, you take home the baby and you're like, let's pretend to be parents. And you do parenty things, like change a diaper poorly, or try to put clothes on them and get their head stuck, maybe because his head got lost in the shirt. Or maybe because you're trying to force it in the arm hole. Or, you give them a bath in the sink with food bits in it. Good intentions, yet...

So maybe something happens where you tried the best you could, made a judgment call that maybe wasn't the best or just an accident occurred, totally beyond your control. And it somehow affects the baby (or not) and maybe even hurts him/her, and you feel like pure, unadulterated crap on a stick.

For me, my fragile heart breaks at least 5 thousand times a day. When I imagine all the things little Julian Man is subjected to. My inadequacies, my whatever. Even things that aren't bad, but just the mere fact that whatEVER i do, he is subjected to it, and has no say or ability to change it. It's a little unnerving for me, and I feel guilt. I do, even about nothing.

For example, my heart breaks when I picture him bound up (<-- my phrase for "swaddled." i do not tie him up, for the record... for now) in his bed. So vulnerable, gigantor eyes peering up at me, arms pinned to his side. When I watch him sleep--*heart break* When i see that he's wriggled his way over to the side of his bed and, asleep, his face is smashed against it, arms pinned, hair frizzy--*break* When he barfs and then smiles, with barf on his face. *break* Everything breaks my heart. And i don't know that that's a bad thing but it sure makes me vulnerable. My heart is a pulpy, ripened and raw thing that continues to triple in size on a secondly basis. I'd be wearing it on my sleeve, but it's way too big. I have to now carry it atop my head like a water jug, like this lady:

So, I might not have yet damaged my child but it's bound to happen. I'm bound to do something.
I expressed these thoughts to my mother and sister and my sister recounted the tale where she was reaching for a glass bowl in a cupboard above where her baby daughter was. The bowl fell out, broke, and glass cut her baby's cheek. AAAGH. Crap on a stick. *break* She then told me that when she took her daughter to a scheduled appointment a couple of days later and told her doctor what had happened, the doctor reassured her by sharing this story:

Apparently he had his baby in the car seat and was swinging him as a loving and fun father would do, as they were out walking somewhere. Little did he know, baby was not buckled in. Yep--whoop! out slipped baby. Flying through the air. Landed in a PUDDLE.

Ashley had told me this story before and it was a good one, but when she reminded me of it a few days ago, i burst into recollective laughter, immediately followed by my tearing up because--*break* My poor little heart.

But it helps me to know that other people suck too. Do you have any good stories? Or know of others'?