Tragic Sandwich

I read a lot of other blogs. And on one of them was posed the question: What surprised you about becoming a mother?

Note: I’m sorry I’m not crediting you and linking to you, Other Blogger. I would, if I could remember which blog was yours!

The first thing that surprised me about being a mother was how immediately I became protective of my tiny baby. I expected it to happen–but I was also so tired that it was hard for me to feel connected to anything for a while. I don’t think I had full-blown PPD, but I was probably close.

So there I am, in the hospital, not feeling much except exhaustion and a lot of pain from trying to periodically turn over or, god forbid, sit up. And one morning I made my way to the bathroom, because brushing my teeth was clearly a necessity, regardless of how I felt.

When I came out, an unfamiliar man was bent over the bassinette, prodding Baguette. And I was astonished at my first impulse, which was to bellow, “Who the f–k are you and what the f–k you’re doing to my child?”

Another note: I have a deep voice. “Bellow” is pretty much what you think it would sound like. More than one person has told me that I can be scary.

But before I could act on that impulse, some other, more rational part of my brain whispered, “Mr. Sandwich is here. He wouldn’t let this happen without good reason. So there must be a good reason.”

That’s when I realized that I had been about to destroy my daughter’s pediatrician. I was fully prepared to incinerate and consume him, merely for touching her.

More recently, I read George R.R. Martin’s series A Song of Ice and Fire. Fans of this series are passionate, and look to the various characters to find reflections of themselves. What I realize is that I don’t identify most strongly with Arya, or Catelyn, or Ned, or Daenarys.

I identify with the dragons.

Photo by eigirdas, via Flickr.