Mom. Mama. Mother. Ma. Mommy. (Mummy if I feel like being particularly British.)
All of these names by which I can be called, and they all feel strange. Not in a bad way, just… strange. I guess it still hasn’t sunk in yet that I’m someone’s mother, even though that someone is a living, breathing body who is currently fast asleep on my lap.
My baby is almost four months old now and sometimes I can’t believe that he’s here. That he’s real. And that he’s mine.
I guess this is partly because the first few months of raising a child are a blur of feeding, changing, diapering, burping, bathing, (not) sleeping, and generally keeping the baby happy… and, you know, alive.
Everything moves too fast – and, paradoxically, reeeaaaalllly slowly – for your poor beleaguered brain to process. So, since I have a moment, I thought I’d process some of being a mom has meant for me so far by making a list. (Of course.)
Being a mom has meant:
- Creating a mental map of all the creaky spots on the floors and stairs, so as not to wake the baby up when he finally, blissfully falls asleep.
- Likewise, I now have the stealth and muscle control of a ninja when walking on the non-creaky parts, for just in case.
- I can file and clip my baby’s nails with the precision of a laser-guided robot.
- Sleeping without really sleeping is my new normal, lest I miss the faintest, slightest sound of distress from my precious, precious child.
- Finding it cute / adorable / hilarious to be sneezed, coughed, burped, peed, and/or spit-up on. (Okay, only sometimes. But it’s hard not to smile when my child looks so pleased with himself afterwards.)
And most importantly of all…
- I’ve experienced a billion-fold increase in my capacity for wonder, amazement, joy, and love. So. Much. Love.
So Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who is the “mother” in a child’s life. We are incredibly, incredibly blessed.