A Mother.

In a little over a month, my newborn baby will, quite miraculously, be having her second birthday. I know. it makes no sense.
It actually confuses me.
It hit me yesterday, at school, when a colleague and friend of mine was kissing and cooing over my daughter. And my daughter was answering her, calling her by her name. And it shocked me. Wasn’t it just the previous day that this friend of mine was rubbing my belly, tickling my enormous bump, sending kisses to the growing girl inside?
Where did the time go?
If my little girl is no longer a baby, does that mean that I am no longer a new mom?
I met my daughter two Springs ago,
and since then,
things have gone from overwhelming and exasperated to
I now know how to do things
like securing the first Pediatrician appointment of the day,
giving the perfect “back ‘assage”,
keeping my kid awake on a long car ride
and then getting her to sleep, soundly, on her own,
and can change a diaper, type and cook dinner, all one-handed.
But, it wasn’t until last night that it really sunk in.
For, it was last night, when I held my heaving baby,
as she choked and coughed and threw up all through the night,
and I slept, in a bed covered in towels, with a baby
and her vomit,
sprawled out across my body
that I didn’t care, one bit, that her regurgitated dinner was tangled in my hair…
Because I had a baby to hold. To soothe. To love.
And in that horrible, exhausting, sad moment
I was no longer a new mom.
I was a mother.

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