Happy Mother’s Day

Happy baby, happy mommy.

This is my first Mother’s Day as a mom, so excuse me if I get a bit weepy. I now cry at commercials and newspaper articles and just random thoughts that pop into my head. So of course every time I look at my little giggling goofball, I tear up. He’ll be six months old tomorrow and the time has gone achingly slow and achingly fast. He brings new meaning to everything–like, I can’t listen to “Jack and Diane” anymore. I don’t want to hear about my son doing any of those things to Diane. Period.

Last Mother’s Day, I was sitting in an Olive Garden with a friend of mine and her new baby. Sort of jealous hers was on the outside, happy and healthy. I was about 14 weeks pregnant and scared out of my mind. I ended up announcing my pregnancy that day because the few people who knew were pushing me to put it out in the open. I would’ve kept it a secret until I birthed him, if I could. But I was out of the first trimester–out of the woods. So, I posted an ultrasound of my uterus up on Facebook, which I’ve heard is totally tasteless. I wouldn’t know as I am not at all classy.

My two men on Easter πŸ™‚

Fear overwhelmed me for most of the early days.Β This was my third pregnancy and the first to get so far. Did it mean anything that I was in the second trimester? Was the danger really any less? I had already been having some scary issues and, despite bed rest, they weren’t getting any better. Every time we went to the OB and I heard his horse hoof heart clomping away it felt like a miracle. A relief. Brief respite from fear. I obsessively Googled miscarriage statistics by pregnancy week. He stubbornly held his ground. Our little frog, swimming around like a manic Mario in an underwater world.

I felt a little better when I hit 24 weeks. Viability. Better still with each passing week. But I wish I could’ve seen ahead to my delivery. Known that my pregnancy would end in a beautiful head of blond hair and the sweetest little furry back. That I would get to spend the early days in bed with him, snuggling and breastfeeding. When I had problems with breastfeeding, shuttling him from doctor to lactation consultant and back again, I wish I could’ve seen to right now. It feels so much more natural. The most relaxing part of my day. A time to connect and watch his eyes flutter and feel the weight and warmth of him against my stomach.

This is what Jack thinks of Christmas.

And of course, there are worries now, like every other time. Worries that, in some short or long span of time, might cease to be worries. I’ll be in those moments, months or years away, and thinking–if I could’ve only seen myself now, I’d know not to worry.

Anyway, right now I’m happy. So so happy. It might last a long time or it might be brief, but to be this happy for however long is pure luck and I’m spending every day feeling exactly how lucky I am.

I’m so grateful to my little boy for giving me such perspective. For showing me how much of myself I could willingly give to another human being. For desensitizing me to vomit and pee and poop. For all of his baby hugs and sopping wet drool kisses. For showing me that my heart is an ever expanding container, and filling it so fully and so beautifully.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms! I hope you all have a wonderful day πŸ™‚



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