A reading from Patrice on New Year’s Eve leads to a meditation practice, which leads to Lekma, a Buddhist nun who will become my mentor, through which I will make a new friend going through a similar experience, that leads me to a single idea that I want to be a mother. Thus, doctors, surgeries, calendars, injections, ultrasounds, and no shortage of invasion of my body. Coupled with yoga, meditation, acupuncture, teas, tinctures, and holistic research; when Gurmukh‘s prenatal classes come along, I know I’ve arrived.

My relationship with motherhood is pretty romantic in the first go: I will barely need a stroller, I can carry her in a sling. She will not use a pacifier, don a Disney costume, or watch Saturday TV. She’ll sleep with me, wake whenever, I will nurse her for years if she wants to, I will feed her only organic, homemade food until she grows up to be a foodie like me. When people suggest being a parent is hard work, I respond with a chuckle. I’m ready.


36 hours later. Yeah, I’m tired.

Once Arabella is born, this deer hits headlights. I should nap when the kid does, but instead I spend my sleep-deprived days reading anything with baby or parent in the title. My baby cries for months straight, waking at 11pm, 1am, 3am, 5am to nurse. Her pediatrician wonders how I’m still upright. No idea.

Ultimately, all is deployed: the pacifier, Teletubbies, naps on time like German trains. We stop nursing exactly one year to the day because I need sleep and so does she. As one tenet after another goes out the window, the exclamation, “Silly Mama!” follows.

In the words of Bridget Jones, Silly Mama is “very busy and very important” to those around her. Sisters are up north, parents have both passed, friends are very busy and important to their own audience. Silly Mama is the entire operation: Chauffeur, Cashier, Cheerleader, Cautionary. She ascribes to healthy eating, living, and thinking. Silly Mama loves to cook and create recipes that are delicious while relatively non-labor intensive. She looks at five Internet recipes and makes up her own, her spice cupboard is muy bueno. I can count on two hands what my kid will eat, so I’m that mom who makes two dinners.

Mostly, I feel like I hit the jackpot with this kid; I must have done something right in this life to get to be her mom. I remain eternally grateful. Sometimes, I can’t believe I was that person, so zen and driven at the same time. But I persevered, spent a lot of money, and motherhood became my reality because I went for it and made it happen.