There are two types of mothers: those who have been “mothers” all their lives (the type that rescues kittens and takes friends under her wing), and the type that slowly become a mother by necessity. I fall under the latter category. My daughter’s diaper was the very first diaper I’ve ever changed.
Somewhere along the way between pushing in the delivery room for two and a half hours to now, I finally feel like a mother. In the past eight months, I’ve watched this little unplanned bundle of nerves grow into a beautiful bubbly 24 lbs. human being. Yes, 24 lbs.—the little tank definitely got her size from her daddy.
The first few months of motherhood were a blur. It was a frenzy of diaper changing, breast-feeding, subsisting on a couple hours of sleep, entertaining countless visitors, and gobbling up whatever food I could eat with one hand. I certainly didn’t feel like a mother at this point, just a glorified mess-cleaner-upper.
It wasn’t until my baby got her very first cold that I felt like a “real” mom. We were on vacation at Disney World with my husband and parents when the little tank came down with a cough and a wheeze. She was miserable and cranky. And the only person she wanted to be with was me. <3
You know you’re a mother when:
- You get baby poop on your hands and shrug it off.
- You consider four hours of sleep as a pretty good stretch.
- You are perpetually 15 minutes late for almost everything. (How does it take so long to pack up and get out the door?)
- You don’t care how ridiculous you look making faces and ga-ga sounds just to try to crack a smile.
I have a newfound respect for parents out there, especially single parents and those raising more than one kid—how do you do it?
A year ago I had freedom—I could come and go as I pleased. Now my world revolves around my little girl. I get up when she wakes up. I eat when she eats. My house is a friggin’ mess. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Mother’s Day!
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