I'm sitting here thinking about this time last year, and how it seems a lifetime ago. I had a big giant belly (but no stretch marks yet), a beautiful nursery (that we never used), my birth plan all written (which said nothing about a call to 911 or slicing open my hoo-ha), and a firm idea of what kind of mother I would be (which has remarkably little to do with the kind of mother I am). I would sit for hours watching the little alien in my belly roll and kick and punch my abdomen into wonky shapes. I would walk, do squats and pelvic rocks, and kegel like a crazy woman every day. I fantasized about regaining my pre-baby body and a freezer full of breastmilk for mommy-and-daddy date nights. I felt ready for anything and ready to revel in the bliss of motherhood and my own little family.
I was so unaware of what was coming that it's really sort of funny...
I was so unaware of what was coming that it's really sort of funny...
Now I know what it means to be a mother. Well, I know what it means to be a mother to my particular 10 month old at least, and I'm pretty knowledgeable about the research and expert opinion surrounding everything else. I've settled into my new mommy skin. I cherish the marks on my body left from the last weeks of pregnancy; each line a mark on the map of my journey to motherhood, the wider hips and heavier breasts physical evidence of a body that grew and continues to nourish another human being. I embrace our family bed, even when it means getting kicked repeatedly or peed on in the middle of the night, because it means I get to wake up every single day looking into the two faces I love most in this world. I am grateful for my beautiful, eventful birth experience because my trust in my power as a woman has grown exponentially, as has my trust in the power of other women to act as guardians of the birth process (even when things go off course). I still sit for hours watching my little bear kick, roll, and punch my belly -- she just does it from the outside now. I accepted early on that I do not respond well to a pump and my daughter does not want to take a bottle, and I haven't really wanted to be away from her even for just a few hours.
Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!