If I may be a little overly personal for a minute: I confessed earlier this week that I wasn’t very excited about my first Mother’s Day. The reason for that, I realized, was that even now, I don’t really feel like A Mom. I don’t speak in hyperbolic terms about my heart exploding into a million pieces when Baby P smiles, or share articles about “What I knew before having a baby” (clickthrough answer: NOTHING). I don’t hear stories about “Mother’s love” and feel like they apply to me, or hear ads that start “Hey, mom!” and realize that I’m the one that should be paying attention. It’s like there is a sisterhood of moms that are very vocal online, and I don’t really fit into it. For a while, I even wondered if I was suffering from some sort of attachment disorder, because other moms reported becoming a totally different person, while I’m still basically myself. Just, you know... with a baby.
I finally realized that none of that matters, though. Maybe I don’t feel like A Mom, but I feel like Baby P’s mom. I love him, I’d do anything for him, I miss him when I’m away. He is my son, my family. When he smiles, my heart stays perfectly intact, and swells with the possibility of the awesome person that his father and I are helping him become.
I love you, kiddo. Thanks for making me your mom.