The Making of a Mother

Me, circa 1986, doing what I love best.

A conversation with me as a child:

Any Grownup: “Cara, what do you want to do when you grow up?” 

Me, holding at least one baby doll and instinctually rocking back and forth: “Be a mommy”.

“Aww”, the grown ups said, “that’s so sweet” when I was little. It’s true; my early years were peppered with a brood of baby dolls and stuffies who were so well nurtured they were ready for the world. Seriously, no Cabbage Patch Kid or life-sized stuffed bear named Abigail ever had it better. They were put down for naps at regular time intervals, encouraged to interact kindly with each other and showered with the kind of love only a mother can give. 

As I grew the same adults who ‘oooh”ed and ‘aahh’ed at my commercially supported parental ambitions (have you been to a toy store lately?) developed worrisome attitudes toward my teenage self who confidently sported the same response to, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” To be fair, I’d added pediatrician to the plan, but only because 1) I love kids  and 2) I was going to be the most kick-ass super-working-mom EVER!

I’m not ashamed to say I still had all my beloved starter children safely tucked away in a corner of my adolescent bedroom, but I’d evolved past imagination-station and now spent great gobs of time running my solo version of The Babysitter Club. Honestly, the phone rang off the hook and I designed homemade spreadsheets with glee (Microsoft Excel was yet to be conceived and honestly, I’m not sure my Commodore 64 could have handled the program). 

I employed two business partners: a ruler and an erasable pen. Together, the three of us were unstoppable. 

Could I babysit after school for the Brown’s? Let me check.... Absolutely! 

A 12-hour day on Saturday for the Green’s four children? Yep! What time should I be ready? 

You’d have to ask my parents, but I’m pretty sure that after the age of 13 they saw very little of me on any regular basis, save for the rides they gave me to and from my jobs. When I turned 16 and secured a license of my very own, I may as well have been a ghost. 

And so you see, I was born to be a parent.

I’m also a realist and put those concerned grown-ups at ease with statements like, “When I’m old enough to be a mother…” as I became an honorary member of countless other families all through high school, college and graduate school.  

When I finally fell pregnant (at the age of 23, thank you very much) I was overjoyed. It was really happening. My belly swelled with new life. It was my turn to grow a human being. She was the little soul who would finally complete my base need: to mother. Nothing phased me during a picture-perfect, textbook pregnancy. It was like living inside a movie-montage. Visions of early days with my newborn were soft at the edges; I saw sunshine and rainbows, smiles and cuddles, perfection personified in an 8lb 8oz baby. 

Are you chuckling yet? Can you relate? If so, you know what comes next. Your water breaks and so does the balloon of fantasy parenting. 

The reality of parenting a newborn is loud, messy and exhausting. The free-flowing daydreams from our yet-to-be parent heads evaporate with the steam from our breast-pump nipple guard sterilizer. To be frank: shit gets real, real fast - literally and metaphorically. 

Wait! Don’t panic. There’s good news!

The newborn phase is fleeting. It’s like spotting a tiny town ahead in the middle of nowhere after an excruciatingly long drive to get there: blink, and you miss it. 

Don’t miss it. Dive in. Wade through your sleep deprivation to grab every moment with your baby who needs you to love them through every part of their day. They are adjusting to this new world and you’re their guide. 

This focuses on your child’s first 18 months of life. This aims to show you how vital you are in supporting your baby’s cognitive, physical, and linguistic development during the first year and half of their being. 

I wrote this because I’ve spent my whole life observing and interacting with children, practicing the skills they need to succeed independently, and learning the science of early childhood development. Here’s what I now know without a shadow of a doubt and what I can’t wait to share with you.

Learning does not begin on the first day of kindergarten.

Learning does not begin on the first day of preschool.

Your baby begins the life-long process of learning the day they are born.

You are their teacher. 

He will soak up the world. He will use all five of his developing senses. Everything he sees, hears, touches, tastes, and smells will blend together to create his reality. She will believe that that is the way she is supposed to interact with the world, because you do. 

Ever heard this oldie-but-goodie: Do as I say, not as I do?

Trust me as I share a way of thinking about parenting, a paradigm shift to help you recognise the power of your words, the implications of your actions, the goals you have for your child as a member of the next generation. 

Together let's forge a new directive: Do as I do, and I’ll learn to do well.