My scariest moment as a parent

It was 3 years ago when I had a 2 month old.  One tiny 2 month old.  She couldn’t talk or walk.  She wasn’t asking for a snack, to go outside or find her favorite blanket.  She didn’t want to watch Dora or play baby doll or sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” with her (again) because she forgot the words.  Yet, I was overwhelmed.  She wanted to breastfeed all the time and never wanted to be put down.  And she cried…all the time…for no good reason.  Yes, I was overwhelmed.

 I remember catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  I hadn’t showered in an embarrassingly long period of time.  I was still carrying most of my “baby” weight, which is such a bad look.  I had on blue baggy sweat pants and a non-matching breastfeeding accessible button down shirt that was stained with spit up (which is a polite way of saying baby puke) and my breasts had leaked through.  My hair was matted and caked with Lord knows what.  I saw myself and in that moment thought “what have I done?!? Who is that person?  Where did the hip, cool, delicious Maria go?  And the scariest question of all: will she ever come back?