“Some things you just
don’t question”
When I started playing
tennis, there were some things I wish somebody would have told me about the
game. Coaches told me I would need to stay in shape, eat well and practice
hard. Those were easily assumed but it helped to hear them repeated on a
regular basis. Friends told me it would be hard work and I would have to
sacrifice many other after-school activities in order to join the tennis team.
I didn’t mind missing out on social hour and knew the challenge of tennis was
what mattered most to me at the time. My parents told me they were continually
on my side of the court even though they were tennis novices themselves. They
informed me I would need to take lessons and learn from other people. I
understood the requirements needed to succeed in a game where my family could
only provide basic instruction and moral support. Tennis is a major part of my
life and always will be. Growing up with the game has fulfilled many of my
inner hopes. Matches have shaped my personality, helped build endurance and
unveiled unknown strength. But what nobody told me about tennis when I started
playing is that I would be unable to stop wanting more of it.
I recently gave birth
to our first born son. Everyone and their mother had advice for me during the
nine months I carried the baby. Despite the variety of advice and well-meaning
tips from other parents, I was assured this whole mother thing would take its
course and I would learn what worked for me. The basics of parenting are, in a
way, similar to learning a new sport. You must practice, work hard and stay in
good health. You need stamina and strength. Parenting requires patience every
day. The ball doesn’t always go over the net, and babies don’t always cooperate
as we hope. When I was pregnant, I was told I would forget the morning sickness
and the labor pains. They were right; I already do. People told me it would all
be worth it—the waiting and carrying a baby for three-fourths of the year. I
can say it was well worth the wait. Other parents told me I should expect to be
up all night and without sleep. That is very much the truth, I now know. Toward
the end of my pregnancy, friends told me I would miss being pregnant. I do miss
him rolling and kicking in my stomach. I miss the closeness I once felt to
someone I never met, but having my son in my arms is unlike any other
experience in my life. The moment I held him for that very first time, I cried
along with him. I knew right then nothing was going to stop me from loving this
boy. Nobody told me I would be unable to stop wanting more of him—wanting to
hold him and care for him. I look at him so often he must think I’m nuts. I can
hardly believe this little precious boy is my baby. Nobody told me I would have
more stamina and adrenaline than any tennis match I’ve played. The physical act
of having a baby is grueling and demanding, but never before that had I felt the power of
what my body could endure. Not even on the tennis court has that type of
empowerment ensued for me.
There are many
comparisons between becoming a parent and the game of tennis. The most obvious
ones are the highs and lows and the back and forth exchanges. Parenting is a
match in itself, one lengthy score count that will matter substantially in the end. The most
notable comparison I’ve found between my favorite game and being a mother is
that I don’t want to leave the match. No matter how much I play tennis, I
always come back for more. This feeling is only amplified now that I have a
son---I want to be with him more and more each day. I will never have enough
love for him, and nothing can compare to that feeling.
“I think I dreamed you
into life”
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