Motherhood

May 26, 2012 § Leave a comment

I keep waiting for this really negligent couple to come home and relieve me from watching this baby.  And then I realize, he’s my baby.

It’s still hard to comprehend that this little life I created is all mine and with each passing day he is going to get bigger, begin to talk, form opinions and one day live his own life.  When I think too far down the line, I get a lump in my throat, worried that before I blink twice he will be grown and leaving the house.  I know it’s inevitable.  I know this because he’s already outgrown his first round of clothing, the plausible next step is that he begins looking for his own place.

Sometimes in the morning, when I’m cuddling with him and it is still dark outside I like to listen to his rhythmic breathing.  I marvel at how someone as imperfect as I, could create such perfection without even trying.  I didn’t have to concentrate day-to-day while being pregnant.  I didn’t have to think things like, “Today is the day I am going to grow his eyelashes”,  He did that all by himself, with science and a little bit of God, depending on who you ask.  There is something about early in the mornings, seeing him smiley faced in his footie pajamas, that makes me want to fast forward to times when he’ll come walking clumsy footed into our bedroom early Sunday morning asking if he can watch cartoons, and then I have to remind myself to enjoy this moment.  To stay present for every second that faces me, whether it is a smiling baby or a fussy one, I know I will miss these days, even the difficult ones.

It’s hard not to fast forward life, anxious to see who he truly resembles as his baby features fade and are replaced by adult ones.  It’s hard not to get caught up in all my hopes and dreams for him, telling him months before he even understands what I am saying, that my only wish for him is to have a happy life, whether it means he is an astronaut or someone who only wishes on stars.  Somedays I feel exactly like I imagine a mom should; frazzled, sleep deprived and completely and utterly full.  Other days I have to remind myself I am a mom, the words “my son” feeling foreign coming out of my mouth.  Maybe it feels so surreal because for years I dreamed of this moment and it is hard to grasp reality when you feel as if you are sleepwalking through the days.

I want to stretch every moment for as long as I can, from waking up in the mornings with him in the nook of my arm to wondering at night as I put him to bed where the day has gone.

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