As the first year of my son's life is rapidly turning into the start of his second, I've been reflecting a lot on what it was that I had "thought" motherhood was. When you're waiting to have kids, you feel an intense and all-encompassing yearning for something you haven't experienced but feel so deeply in your bones that you need. How is that possible? How do you "miss" something you haven't had?
I've tried to remember how I used to define motherhood and it blows my own mind how far off I was.
Let me explain.
I think it's something akin to nostalgia- where you can truly only have a hazy, sweet glimpse of something. Of course, I pictured the sweet new baby snuggles, the nighttime waking, the first steps and the adorable mini soccer games. I pictured clapping as he took his first steps, proudly showing him off wherever I went, holidays FINALLY holding some extra excitement again. I pictured family vacations, feeling like I "fit in" at church, identifying so hard as a "mom".
But it's all the things I couldn't possibly have anticipated that is the essence of motherhood.
It's the walking-out-of-the-hospital and climbing into your car with your brand-new baby, all of a sudden panicking that your postpartum nurse Violate is standing at the door waving goodbye and not climbing in the car with you.
It's standing over that same baby watching him breathe for 15 minutes, and then calling your mom to make sure his breath patterns are normal.
It's trying so hard to be brave when you feel anything but, because you need your baby to know it's okay (I'm looking at you, circumcision).
It's so, so, so many more night wakings than you could have counted and being ridiculously desperate for some sleep, but holding on and cuddling a few minutes longer because you can actually see him growing and changing. You can feel more brain cells dying with each moment that you should be sleeping, but those cuddles, man. They're worth more than anything.
It's realizing how self-righteous and just plain WRONG you were about everything you thought you'd never do before having kids.
It's making naptime a sacred event, one that if interrupted, sends you into a genuine rage at the offending party.
It's the unexpected mama bear that comes roaring out of your mouth when someone commits a seemingly innocuous offense, such as not using hand sanitizer before holding your baby. Like you will really wonder where that has been hiding all your life.
It's feeling around behind you while driving down the road, to make sure your baby's head hasn't flopped forward in the carseat.
It's being incredibly proud and profoundly heartbroken with each milestone and achievement - holding his head up on his own, shaking a rattle, sitting up, shutting that door that pops open on his toy.
It's laundry. So much laundry.
It's questioning every parenting decision you ever make and constantly wondering if it was the right one.
It's never wanting to leave that baby with ANYONE because nobody could possibly love him and care for him and understand him like you - and feeling terrible when you do.
It's setting up a sleepover in the living room because your baby is sick, and he needs you, and you don't know what else to do.
It's doing more during a 1.5 hour period of sleeping child than almost seems humanly possible.
It's making silly noises and dancing like an idiot JUST to get a laugh and a smile.
It's looking inside yourself and trying to figure out what YOU need to improve so that your child can be a better person than you.
It's begging for the rarest and sloppiest open-mouth kiss in the world.
It's the anxiety for somebody else's well being that can send you in to a full-on panic attack.
It's getting in bed at the end of the day, and then getting out of bed 5 more times to make sure he's warm and okay in his crib. And then maybe you'll do it a few more times just for good measure.
This is motherhood. This beautiful, messy, scary, incredible thing.
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