My one-month old
Mercedes,
You started as a dream. A hope that grew inside me for months and years. It wasn't a dream that came without great anxiety. I longed for you in a way my heart has never ached for anything. And there was a large part of me that was terrified I'd never meet you.
When reality came to be it felt anything but real. I hardly let myself embrace the notion of meeting you out of fear something might go wrong. I forced myself to take the pregnancy one day at a time. I would tell myself "Today you are pregnant. That's all that matters. You can't control tomorrow."
And before I knew it you were a bump in the night. Literally. Always making me aware of your presence with jabs, stretches and rolls.
Now you're on this side of eternity with me, but being with you is like heaven here on earth. You are more than I could have imagined. So far, in the little I've known you, you have been mild-mannered and cuddly. The rest of forever will be a pretty pleasant visit if we continue on this trend.
But in this last month, I've not only discovered you. I've started to find myself in you, too — discovering my new title of "Mama." Just like many mothers before me, I've stumbled through the first month of your life navigating the minefield of mommy-guilt and doubt. And I'd be lying if I said I've loved every minute of it. Functioning on mere minutes of sleep takes its toll. But you're worth it, and through it all I have discovered a capacity to love that I only previously hoped I had.
We've made it this far surviving on cuddles and endorphin-inducing marathon nursings. The beautiful thing is, for this stage of your life that is more than enough. But it won't always be. There are so many things I wish I could promise you now in your young life about the years to come. But I can't promise to protect you from the world. I can't promise you won't carry your share of burdens or pain. You inevitably will. And I can't promise you perfection. You will make mistakes. As will I, as your mother. But that's okay. We don't have to be perfect. You being perfect is not how you made my dreams a reality.
But in this last month, I've not only discovered you. I've started to find myself in you, too — discovering my new title of "Mama." Just like many mothers before me, I've stumbled through the first month of your life navigating the minefield of mommy-guilt and doubt. And I'd be lying if I said I've loved every minute of it. Functioning on mere minutes of sleep takes its toll. But you're worth it, and through it all I have discovered a capacity to love that I only previously hoped I had.
We've made it this far surviving on cuddles and endorphin-inducing marathon nursings. The beautiful thing is, for this stage of your life that is more than enough. But it won't always be. There are so many things I wish I could promise you now in your young life about the years to come. But I can't promise to protect you from the world. I can't promise you won't carry your share of burdens or pain. You inevitably will. And I can't promise you perfection. You will make mistakes. As will I, as your mother. But that's okay. We don't have to be perfect. You being perfect is not how you made my dreams a reality.
What I can promise is that I will always be by your side. I will always be your biggest cheerleader, even while you struggle. I'll always be the one encouraging you to dream the dreams you're almost too scared to hope for -- like the dream you were, for me. Those are the dreams most worth having, anyway. No matter what you do, you'll always be the baby I dreamed of. I will always love you, my dream girl.
Always,
Mama
1 comment:
This is beautiful, it sums up exactly how I've felt with both my girls!
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