A Most Terrifying, Wonderful Thing

As Cohen's first birthday approaches, the weather changes, pumpkin things slowly overtake our home, and I hang my DIY autumn wreath on the front door, I am reminded of where I was only a short breath of a year ago... big-pregnant with this little kicking, hiccuping, squirming baby... The baby now cruising around on my furniture, pulling pots and pans out of cabinets, bumping his head on anything and everything and playing "ba" (ball) with me every second I'll sit on the floor to roll it back and forth with him.

Every day I fall more and more in love with this little boy... His big hazel-brown eyes, little wisps of dark wavy hair, tiny toes that still curl around my finger like they did when he was just born
... Every time he catches my eye from across the room and his face lights up, little nose wrinkles, and the faintest dimple pops from the right side of his snaggle-tooth smile... When he gets sleepy or bored with his toys and he crawls to find me, pulling himself up on my leg and repeating those two syllables over and over again that melt my heart every time... "mama".

"Motherhood" is an ethereal and fearsome concept, especially to the first-time mom. For most of my pregnancy I thought of motherhood and immediately a long list of angelic qualities and matriarchal disciplines began to unfold in my mind. I knew, no doubt about it, I would never measure up. I remember when the final moments of 18 hours of pain and sweat and tears and labor came to a close in a hazy O.R. with the fuzzy voices of doctors and nurses and Daniel telling me I could throw up if I needed to... it's really all a crazy, unbelievable blur. (Probably a combination of exhaustion and drugs?) Then the big clarifying moment came when they held the little crying bundle in front of me and pressed his face up against mine, and he grew quiet and my tears of joy (and mostly relief at that point) began to flow. I felt it... I was a mother. A love that stung and ached and warmed and melted pressed into my heart and flooded me, and it was the scariest, most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.

During my recovery at the hospital and Cohen's first days in the world, I spent much of it holding him, watching him, playing with what seemed like the tiniest fingers and toes I had ever seen, marveling at his perfection... and worrying. Following the innate burst of love was a flood of fear and anxiety. Here was something so perfect, so brand new, so dependent and needy. I would look over at Daniel and back into myself and think, "WE ARE THE PARENTS????" I cried when we left the hospital, and again when we got home, and again when my mom showed up to help, and again when she left because I was terrified to be left alone with him. I kept thinking to myself... Doesn't anyone realize I have no idea what I'm doing?

"Motherhood" creeps up on you. You spend all this time researching and googling (how did mothers survive before Google?) and stressing and planning... nursing and bottles and sleep schedules and feeding schedules and post-partum hormones and bonding and playtime and sensory development and fevers and teething and vaccinations... and then it just happens. Suddenly you are worrying a little less (mothers are probably never completely worry-free), and just enjoying more. You change diapers, take temperatures, give medicine, and rock bedtimes and naptimes like it's second nature. Because it is. You are a mom now. You have been ever since the pregnancy test turned positive. It just takes a second to start feeling it.

And now I'm doing it all over again! I started feeling Everett's tiny movements this week, and it is just as magical the second time around. Sometimes I start thinking about doing this for a second time... the weight to be gained, the agony of childbirth, the months of sleepless nights and days, those first 24 hours when your milk comes in, the dollar signs that come with every new baby, and I get really overwhelmed and teary-eyed. And then Cohen leans over and plants two sloppy wet kisses on my face,  reaches for me to pick him up, calls for "mama", or just smiles that heart-stoppingly precious smile and I remember why I was somehow inexplicably happy, instead of sad or upset, when that pregnancy test showed positive for the second time in two years. Overwhelmed yes, but inexplicably happy.

I had a woman sit me down a few weeks ago and tell me how crazy it is that I'm having another baby so soon and how it's going to be so hard, and how she's worried that it will affect me, and Daniel, and my marriage. And I just shrugged and smiled and nodded. Because it is crazy. And it was definitely not in our five year plan. And this woman who doesn't have kids yet actually really has no idea how hard it will be and how much it will affect me, and Daniel and our marriage. She also does not know yet how part of the beautiful thing about having kids is that it is hard, it does change you and it does affect your marriage. For me, music and school have been pushed to the back burner. For Daniel, school, culinary internships, and a lot of bro nights were shelved for the time being. We have way fewer date nights and even fewer late nights or fun getaways. Daniel and I have learned to lean into God's strength and wisdom more in this last year than we ever have before, and Daniel and I have learned to lean into each other like we never have before. We grew up and grew more selfless. Few things will do that to you like getting married and having a baby.

AND few things bring more joy.