Someone asked me the other day what I wanted for Mother’s Day and I laughed. What? Is the formula drinker going to run out and hit up the mall, or make some crafts? Doubtful. I bought myself a Mother’s Day present a while ago. And, if there were anything in the world that I wanted right now that I don’t already have, it would be one day to sleep in. ‘Til like, noon.
This weekend marks my first Mother’s Day. My first Mother’s Day with an actual baby in my arms. My first Mother’s Day as a single mom.
I’ve gone through four Mother’s Days as an unofficial mom. Three after or during my first failed pregnancies, and then last year, when I knew I was pregnant but no one else did.
But this time, after those four Mother’s Days, I get to be included.
It won’t be a fancy affair; just a BBQ at my mom’s house. I won’t be able to sleep in. Or have a day without doing dishes or laundry. I won’t get flowers or breakfast in bed. I won’t get the day off.
After all, it’s just her and I.
But I get to wake up and pick my baby up out of her crib.
I get to kiss her right where her neck meets her cheeks, which she loves.
I get to cuddle her while she drinks her morning bottle and watches Mickey Mouse.
I get to lay her on the couch, and lean in while she rubs her hands on my face (this is new and it kills me).
I get to pick out her clothes for the day and get her dressed.
I get to pick out bows and shoes for her to wear.
I get to put her in her car seat and take her with me to my mom’s to celebrate my very first official Mother’s Day.
I get to enjoy the compliments all day about how beautiful she is.
I get to make the bouncing laps around my mom’s spare bedroom trying to get her to go down for a nap.
I get to be there when she wakes up 15 minutes later.
I get to receive the smile she will have on her face, so proud of herself for closing her eyes for that long.
I get to lay on the floor with her while she figures out how to roll over.
I get to watch her chew on her teething rings to make her gums feel better.
I get to take her home with me at the end of the day.
I get to try to feed her solid foods, and laugh at the faces she makes.
I get to run her bath and watch her enjoy the warm water while she sucks on the wash cloth.
I get to rub her down with baby lotion.
I get to find her some soft, comfortable pajamas, and snuggle with her on my lap when she has them on.
I get to feed her the night time bottle, while we watch more Mickey Mouse.
I get to bounce her around the living room to try to get her to sleep.
I get to do even more laps when she wakes up after I lay her down.
I get to turn on the baby monitor and listen to her breathing while she sleeps.
I get to wash her bottles and fill them back up so they are ready for the next day.
I get to wash her clothes and make sure they are clean and comfortable for her to wear for the week.
I get to go to bed, knowing that my baby is in the next room sleeping peacefully, and I get to experience all of it again the next day. A day that’s not even Mother’s Day.
I get to do all of that. ME.
This is what I have been waiting for. I feel complete. I feel like I finally found my reason for being here I am happy, and I am so completely in love that there are days I can’t even handle it.
On Mother’s Day, I will always look back to her birth and remember her first cry. Touching her face as soon as she was born. Holding her and looking at that sweet, scrunched up face. Watching everyone I love hold her. Having our first moments together alone. Having our first night together alone.
I am so so so grateful. So blessed. So happy. So complete. So rich. So loved. I mean…how does it ever get any better than this?
Happy Mother’s Day to me!
And Happy Mother’s Day to all of the other moms out there.
The new moms.
The veteran moms. The pregnant moms. The adoptive moms. The moms that experienced loss. The aunts. The grandmas. The sisters. The nieces. The cousins. The guardians. The godmothers. The fur moms.
Anyone that experiences that kind of love for someone else…
Happy Mother’s Day.
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