Over the past five years, my body has nurtured, carried, and welcomed three incredible children into the world. I’ve fed them with my own body, cradled them lovingly, and showered them with affection. Yet, there are still instances that leave me in awe, questioning how I got here.
When did I transition from just being a girl to becoming someone’s mom?
It feels like just yesterday I was driving home from the hospital with a tiny, squirming bundle in the back seat, my body feeling unfamiliar and battered in ways I’d never anticipated. I was engulfed in fear, wondering how I could ever meet that little one’s expectations. Mothers, after all, are like goddesses; they possess the wisdom to soothe a child, know exactly where to place kisses on scraped knees, and can recognize a multitude of rashes. I was clueless.
Five years ago, I entered motherhood but hadn’t yet embraced the full essence of being a mom. It took time to gain the wisdom and experience necessary to reflect on when I truly earned that cherished title.
What marks that pivotal moment when a new mother evolves into a true mom?
Is it the moment of sitting frozen on the toilet, dreading that first bowel movement post-delivery? Or is it the nightly shuffle down the hall like a zombie, attending to feedings, often falling asleep in spit-up as exhaustion takes over? Is it waking in the middle of the night to pump, ensuring a steady milk supply?
Perhaps it’s nursing despite painful cracked nipples, managing muffin tops, or plucking the sudden sprouting hairs all over your body. Is it those nights spent rocking your child as they sleep, even while your neck feels like it’s being twisted into a pretzel, all for a few minutes of rest? Is it the first smile, the moment they reach for you, or the day they say “mama”?
Is it the panic of a midnight trip to the ER after their first tumble or holding them while they cry, sharing in their sorrow with silent tears hidden in their hair? Is it cutting food into smaller pieces or buying duplicates of their favorite cup to prevent squabbles?
Is it the first time they declare their love for you—or the moment they shout that they hate you? Is it lifting them up when they stumble or rebuilding their confidence after friends let them down? Is it feeling guilty for grumbling about them but then boasting about their achievements to friends?
Is it creating a display for their less-than-perfect artwork, color-coding family schedules, or spending a fortune driving them to activities? Is it packing school lunches, overseeing homework, or chaperoning school dances? Is it worrying when they venture out on their own, calling multiple times just to check in?
Is it saying “yes” even when you want to refuse, or saying “no” when it’s absolutely necessary? Is it giving up your social life, nightlife, and intimacy? Or is it accepting that they will eventually seek their own lives outside of yours?
In truth, it encompasses all of these experiences and yet none at all. Being a mom isn’t a checkbox on a list or a measurable quantity of love. It’s as elusive and enchanting as a baby’s first giggle. It evolves alongside your children, always looking back yet continuously moving forward. It’s about sharing your life with another wonderfully imperfect being who, day after day, astonishes, frustrates, infuriates, and delights you.
As I lay awake the night before my eldest’s fifth birthday, I find myself reflecting on how quickly time has passed and feeling deeply grateful for the gift of motherhood.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood is filled with countless moments both monumental and mundane, collectively defining the experience of being a mom.