I’ve always known that I wanted to be a mom and according to my husband, he has known since he first met me (waaaay back when I was just a bubbly teenager) that I would be a good mom. The thing that surprised me the most about being a mom is how much it validated my life and my existence. And it did so in the strangest ways. First, let me tell you about my baby. She is beautiful and sweet and happy and smart. She has a laugh that could clear the sky of dark clouds and a darling little voice that angels try to mimic. Yes, that is the sound of gushing (and I’m not apologizing, either). The reason why I want to tell you this is because it blows my mind that I could have had a part in creating something so incredible. My whole life I’ve been really flexible (feel free to substitute wishy washy for flexible)…I changed majors in college, I got myself a general masters degree, I’ve been a jack of all trades in my career. There are so many things I’ve done just because I could, not because I should. Knowing that I could play even the slightest part in making something so incredible makes me feel like maybe this was something I was meant to do. Perhaps this is the reason for me to be on this earth.
When I had Miss K, I learned a whole new lesson about love and the love I received to make me who I am today. It finally became clear how very much my own mother loves me. In the middle of the night when she was just a little bitty and I was changing her diaper and it was just the two of us, it occurred to me that someone had once done this for me. I was exhausted, my boobs were sore, I was oozy (if you’ve had a kid, you know what I mean and sorry if that’s gross) and I knew for a fact that my mother had once cared for me with every shred of selfless tenderness and concern that she had in her body, just like I was doing for my daughter. That woman loved me then and she loves me now. I piss her off and I seldom tell her I love her but my momma loves me.
Babies are wonderful in the most peculiar way. Right now (and I suspect my time for this to be true is quickly running out), I am confident that there is no one in the world that my daughter would rather see. There is no one in the world that my daughter would rather smell. There is no one in the world my daughter would rather touch. There is no one in the world that my daughter would rather hear. There is no one in the world that my daughter would rather taste (weird but true). And that’s nice to know. But even more fulfilling than that, the amazing part of being her mom is knowing how much I love her. She does not need to love me back. It just feels good to love so much. I have finally, finally, finally found something that I can say unabashedly and confidently that I am good at. I am good at loving this child. And that makes me real.