Every time I hear Christmas music, I can’t help but think back to that festive season nine years ago when my belly was so round it could have been a snow globe. Sleep was elusive, comfort was a distant dream, and pregnancy migraines hit hard, making the twinkling lights outside feel like daggers in my eyes. I was drained, overwhelmed, and oh-so-very pregnant.
But more than anything, I was scared. While everyone else gathered around their holiday trees, I was unraveling. I knew that any moment, my life would take a turn I could hardly comprehend. Thoughts raced through my mind: What have I done?
Then, under the glow of a full moon just after New Year’s, you made your grand entrance. Just like that, I had no say in the matter: I became your mama.
When the midwives placed you in my arms, you were wailing like a tiny alarm clock. You felt like a little alien, too foreign yet so perfect. Your cries echoed in my chest, and you sparkled like a star in the night sky.
Learning to love you was a journey. At first, you refused to nurse. Sleep? Not a chance! Those piercing blue eyes of yours held my gaze as I whispered, I hate you, just before the exhaustion washed over me. But then, when you finally drifted off on my chest, I found a love deeper than I had ever known, a warmth that radiated from my head to my toes.
You taught me that it was okay to love so fiercely, to be taken aback by the intensity of it all, and to even feel resentment towards the challenges. It was perfectly fine to wish for a break while simultaneously cherishing every moment.
Dear sweet boy, I see you now, nestled in the top bunk of your bed, absorbed in some game on your iPad. Your little brother is sound asleep, and it’s just you and me, reminiscent of those days when I rocked you for hours, desperately hoping you would close your eyes. For years, I cradled you, nursing and carrying you close as we wandered around town. I never wanted to let you down or say goodbye.
And now, here we are, with you zoning out on your iPad and kicking me out of your bed after a brief chat. Just wait on the bottom bunk, you say. You can stay until I fall asleep.
So, I settle in. I wait, and soon enough, you drift off. As I gaze at your sleeping form, tangled in the covers, I can’t fathom how you’ll be 9 years old next month. Where has the time gone? How many more Christmases until you don’t call this house home? How many years until our daily chats fade into distant memories?
I know it will all happen gradually, yet it feels like it will come in a flash. In the blink of an eye, as they say.
I will always be your mama. My love for you will remain fierce and unwavering. I will forever be astounded by the depth of this love and your authentic, beautiful spirit.
And every Christmas for the rest of my days, I will remember how I longed for you, how I waited for the moment I would become a mother for the first time.
You made me a mama, and you will always be my baby.
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In summary, every holiday season evokes memories of my journey into motherhood, from the anxiety of pregnancy to the overwhelming love I feel for my son. As time goes on, I cherish each moment and reflect on the joy he has brought into my life.