Despite side effects, motherhood is worth it

About 2 1/2 months ago, I did not think becoming a mom would

change me drastically.

I was, of course, not naive. I knew I had to expect that some

aspects of my life would change. I knew long, luxurious baths would

become rare. So would stepping out of the house on a whim, catching a

movie without a second thought or getting uninterrupted sleep. But I

didn’t think I’d change all that much as a person.

Seriously. These days, in my family, the baby’s bowel movements

make for pleasant, sometimes stimulating, dinner conversation.

“Did he go today?”

“Yes. Three times.”

“Didn’t he go four times yesterday?”

“Yeah. But it’s only 8 [p.m.] now. He still has a few hours to

catch up, doesn’t he? You know what -- I think he just went again.

Phew! That’s a relief.”

And then there’s all the baby talk. As a teenager and for the

better part of my adulthood, nothing annoyed me more than baby talk.

There’s “boo-boo” and “poo-poo” and, of course, the “owies” and

the “lovies.” But now, not only was I sinking into a quicksand of

popular baby talk but, to my horror, realized that I was inventing

many of my own.

“Are you ready for jo-jo?” I’d ask my baby before a bath.

“Do you want mum-mum?” when he’d yell out for food.

And if you thought the wacky emotions and crazy hormones

disappeared after baby’s born, think again. They’re here to stay.

Tears come streaming out the minute anything’s wrong or even likely

to be wrong with the baby. Somebody better not stick needles in him

or tell you he may have jaundice. And the pediatrician had better not

rub his jaw when he’s listening to your baby’s heartbeat.

You find yourself rubbing your eyes and asking aloud: “What’s

this? What’s this salty discharge on my face?”

Ah, the joy of motherhood! Not to mention the anxiety attacks,

especially the first few days of being a parent. Every once in a

while, I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a jolt and bolt

toward the bassinet. Is he breathing? Is he OK? And just when I’d

head back to my bed with some sense of assurance, my baby would make

some weird noise that would seem like a combination of choking,

coughing and throwing up.

Then it would start all over again. Lights on. Phone calls to the

doctor’s emergency line. It goes on and on until you figure the

baby’s not going to die.

But then, in one, unsuspecting moment -- as you’re going through

the panic attacks and robotic moments of feeding, bathing and

changing diapers, there it is.

A smile.

A broad, toothless smile that lights up your life.

Suddenly, lifestyles and personalities don’t seem to matter all

that much.

* DEEPA BHARATH covers public safety and courts. She may be

reached at (949) 574-4226 or by e-mail at deepa.bharath@latimes.com.