It’s no secret that I did not immediately bond to you. I knew I wanted you. I knew you were the most perfect choice for me – specifically designed by The Creator to be mine even before I met you. I knew He knit you together…your splattered freckles, your dark brown eyes, and your strong-willed and sweet personality. I dreamt about you. I yearned for you. And I expected to be able to hold you for the first time and feel an overwhelming and startling love.
Everyone told me that the moment you were born, the moment I held you in my arms, love would hit me. They said that it would be like an instant knowing. A bond of mother to child that would drive me to cherish every moment. A waiting fire that would be lit with a spark of meeting. A wall of “he-is-the-best-thing-ever” that would hit me so hard that life before you would be inconceivable…but that just isn’t our story.
It was months later that I finally knew I really loved you. Months. That’s a long time to wait. But you were worth it. You were my little handful. My ball of mess. You were cholicy and I was on the brink of sanity. My hard headed breastfeeder. My high maintenance boy. The change that you brought to my life was extreme. I wanted you. I wanted you before you were ever conceived…and that comforting feeling helped through the long nights and the painful days. Just like falling for your daddy…it took time. And with you, the waiting was filled with tears and fears and heartache. I wanted to love you. When I fed you, I would stare at you the entire time, waiting patiently for any fleeting second of eye contact or a contented hum to pass your lips. I bathed you hoping for a fleeting interaction that would drive me forward, I changed you – addressing the rash with a sense of humor, I slept everyday with you on my chest breathing in your newness, tormenting myself with the thoughts of the word ‘never’. Could I really be a parent that never falls in love with their own child? Would that love never come? Maybe you would never love me back? Is it me? Maybe I was never meant to be a mother… maybe there was a mistake…. maybe…
No. No…I refused to believe it. I decided that this thing between us…this emotional connection…this vibrant and colorful love – well, it just a bud…a early flower that was waiting to bloom. It was like winter. And the spring and it’s birth of love would come. It just needed time. It needed a little care. and it needed me to learn to wait. So I did. The waiting continued. and continued.
And then…oddly enough…with no loud announcement or incident of notice…it came.
It grew and grew until it washed over me. Like an ocean of warm maple syrup. sweet and comforting. I was willing to drown myself in you. That love was and is and continues to be so so sweet. You are my baby and I am your mommy. There was no mistake. There was no error or smacking wall. There was just sowing before the harvest. work before the prize. a season of rebirth.
I tell you this to say…sometimes life isn’t what you expect. sometimes you get what you want. or what you think you want. and sometimes you have to wait. and bend. and hold fast. sometimes the absolute best thing ever doesn’t follow your plan. and sometimes you just have to let go.
I am so so thankful for you.
I am thankful for your wet goodnight kisses.
I am thankful for your unending requests of ‘hold you mommy’.
That fire was lit by thousands of dirty diaper changes and millions of sweet baby giggles.
You taught me how to wait…how to lay myself down…how to choose love even when it was hard.
And now I am soaked in it. From head to toe. It’s in my bones and my veins….
You are my sweetest thing. my best. my greatest and everything I ever wanted.
I love you. I love you. I love you my sweet sweet boy.
and now that I have it, I will never let that go. Never.