The Mama Factor

There's something that often comes over me in times of crisis- a deep sense of calm, an intense focus, and an uncanny ability to know exactly what to do without so much as a second thought. It's almost like a different person emerges and takes over in those moments. I'm calling it (her) The Mama Factor for lack of a better term, because it is a very instinctual, nurturing state of being. However, it hasn't been only since I've been a Mama that I've experienced it's effects.

One of the first times I remember it happening was the summer when I was sixteen. I was babysitting two little girls, ages (approximately) four and six. It was after dinner, bath, and pajamas, and we were sitting on the couch watching a movie. Then out of nowhere the four year old stood up and started throwing up everywhere. And just as I was picking her up to carry her into to the bathroom, her older sister got a sudden, severe nosebleed. They both panicked. I distinctly remember the younger one, still throwing up mind you, screaming Mary's gonna die! (Funny, it's only now that I'm realizing how disturbing it is that a four year old said that). But I managed to calm them down, remedy both of their ailments, change their clothes, and clean up mass quantities of bodily fluids, all in the blink of an eye. I was utterly amazed at myself. Now, of course I did what I had to do. The fact that I took care of the situation(s) wasn't the amazing part. It was the immediate and absolute concentration that I was able to call forth (from sources yet unknown to me) at the exact moment our perfect evening started to fall apart.

Another time was during my freshman year of college. A friend dropped something out of my eighth floor dorm room window (quite not by accident I'm sure), and ran down the stairs to retrieve it, or the pieces of it at least. It was very cold outside, so the rest of my friends and I waited upstairs. We watched him come out of the building and begin to look around for whatever he had dropped, and then he started laughing (or so we thought, we couldn't really hear him). Then he fell to his hands and knees. We yelled down to him and tried to figure out what in the world he was doing. I thought I heard him coughing, and it hit me- he was having an asthma attack. I sprung into action, racing downstairs with an inhaler (his or mine, I don't remember), but by the time I got to him he was well past being able to take the medicine and recover on his own, and he was coughing up blood. I knelt beside him on the sidewalk tying to calm him down, and screamed to my other friends to call 911. But lo and behold, that brought about a whole new problem... he was terrified of ambulances/ police/ whathaveyou, so he tried to get up and run. I had to literally throw myself on top of him and just about pin him to the ground. Luckily the ambulance arrived quickly. But when it did, the EMT's stepped out and, upon seeing the state he was in, stopped cold. They thought he was "on something" and wouldn't approach him (I don't necessarily blame them for thinking that, but still). By then, my other friends we all standing around us, dumbstruck. I continued to restrain him (he freaked out again when he saw the ambulance) while screaming out tidbits of my friend's medical history and convincing the EMT's that no, he was not on anything, but he was probably suffocating to death; all the while, still trying to convince my friend to settle down and hold still (and threatening that I was going to kill him myself if he didn't let them help him). Finally, thankfully, everyone decided to play nice. My friend got the oxygen he needed to survive (no exaggeration). And I got a free ride in an ambulance. And it was all thanks to The Mama Factor.

I have many other examples.

So, I'm bringing this up because of a minor incident that happened yesterday afternoon. I was on the computer and Luc was wandering around the house, trying to find something to get into. And whaddyaknow? He found something! He reached up and gleefully pulled two silicone rubber potholders off the counter. Smack, they whapped him in the face. I could see him from where I was sitting and wasn't concerned in the slightest (these things weigh about an ounce a piece). He didn't cry either... at first. After a few seconds though, he started screaming. I went to him and immediately noticed that his face was wet. Well, less wet and more slimy actually. And it wasn't snot (which after this week, I'm growing accustomed to seeing all over his face). It was soap- dish soap to be exact (thank God it was just plain Ivory). I have no idea how it got there, but hiding under the potholders there had been a big puddle of undiluted, concentrated dish soap. Cue TMF. I picked him up and held him over the sink, and he screamed bloody murder as I rinsed it out of his eyes and told him in a soft voice that I was sorry. Poor baby, the soap must have stung something awful. He fought me and rubbed at his eyes (doing so created suds!). We were both soaking wet. The soap was in his hair, on his clothes, and all over his hands too. There were bubbles everywhere. And the screaming. And the kicking. And the gagging (did I mention that?). But I was so focused on the task at hand, it was almost like I couldn't hear him screaming, didn't notice the water everywhere, (and here's the incredible part) had very little trouble holding my 23 pound, 31 inch tall, angry, wiggly toddler over the sink. I just knew I needed to get the soap out of his eyes as fast as possible. And so I did. And he's fine. And that's The Mama Factor.

I think maybe we've all experienced it in some form or another, during some crisis or catastrophe of life. It's human nature. I believe that we are at our absolute best when everything else falls away, and we are called to listen to our intuition and follow our instincts.

I'm never aware of it while it's happening. It's only when the crisis is over (when the parents finally come back/ while riding shotgun in an ambulance, running red lights with sirens blaring/ changed into dry clothes, sitting on the couch nursing the baby) that I'm able to look back and wonder how on earth I was able to accomplish those things with such ease.

Thanks, TMF. I seriously owe you one.