Life on Abram Lake
Life as a rural physician Mama in the backwoods of Northwestern Ontario
To my daughter
My dear baby girl,
Today, we looked into each other’s eyes. You cooed and smiled and my heart melted.
It’s not that I didn’t love you before now, but like any relationship, it has taken awhile to get to know you. To connect with you. They say that you fall head over heels with your baby as soon as you meet. But, my darling girl, it wasn’t that way with us. I love you, but it has been hard.
These past weeks have been challenging. Frustrating. Enraging. Discouraging. Exhausting.
But now, we have made it. Here. On the other side where, at 5am when we wake, the sun rises lazily over the glassy lake. Here, where you sleep more than 2 hours at night. Here, where the days are warm. And here, where you finally can be settled with my breast, with a song, and with a snuggle.
Gone are the hours of relentless crying where I would swaddle you and you’d scream. I would unswaddle you and you’d scream. I would offer you a soother and you’d scream, and continue to scream if you spit it out. I would try to nurse you and you’d scream, rock you and you’d scream. You were frustrated and mad. Truly angry. I felt helpless and frustrated too. I felt incompetent as a mother. After hours of your crying, I would just lie down beside you, place my hand on your belly and cry too.
Those nights were hard. I didn’t know you or know what you needed. I felt resentful towards you and sad that I was missing out on being with Henry. I felt guilty for not feeling happy to be your Mom. And most of all, I felt tired. So, so tired.
But now, my love, not only do you smile, but you smile at ME. You look at my face and your eyes light up. Your chubby face folds into the most adorable grin. You coo at me and I coo back. We chat like this with your face close to mine. I kiss your soft cheeks and tickle your belly.
Now, my darling, not only do I love you, but I enjoy you.
I am so lucky to be your Mama.
Life on Abram Lake 