Fake it ’til you make it. 

There are times when I don’t feel grown up enough to be a parent.  When I feel like my brain is rushing to catch up to the life that I’ve created for it. That feeling was there when we left the hospital with a baby, it’s there every time somebody introduces me as Bingo’s mom, and it’s there when I look around my house- every room scattered with toys- and think, “It looks like a kid lives here.”

I feel like I’m faking it. 

But then my feverish baby calls for me over the monitor: “Mummy!”  And I take her temperature, and give her medicine, and worry a little but not too much. This is the fifteenth fever, after all, not the first. I sit rocking with her in the dark, one of her small fever hot hands curled around my collar, and I don’t feel like I’m faking it anymore. 

How can I, really? Knowing that, to her, Sea and I are everything. We’re not pretend parents, we’re not unsure parents, we’re not people pretending to be adults. We’re just her parents: the only ones she’s got.  To her, we are enough.  

Bingo is asleep again. She breathes deeply in my arms, but still moves fitfully: the fever isn’t gone yet. So I keep rocking her. And in this dark room, in this moment, I feel it too: we are enough.  

6 thoughts on “Fake it ’til you make it. 

  1. I think many of us feel the same way. Sometimes I step back and look at my life and think, “My god, *I* am the adult here!” And sometimes I feel like I’m faking it, winging it, don’t have a sweet clue what I’m doing. But then, my kid gives me a hug, comes to me for comfort, or tells me she loves me. And then, I feel okay but how I’ve done so far.

    You’re not just enough – you’re the perfect Mummy for Bingo!

  2. We are in the middle of our first stomach flu over here and we were just discussing this very thing – there’s still disbelief that we’re Moose’s parents, that we’re the ones she wants when she’s feverish or has just thrown up all over herself. We’re all enough.

  3. Pingback: One toe in the pool | Her mind was cut glass

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