Becoming a mom has been terrible for my ego but wonderful for my soul. I used to be hip, trendy, stylish and fun. I used to strut around like I was hot stuff and then I got filled up from the inside with my babies. As they grew, so did my love for them, swelling within me, overwhelming my emotions. It transformed me and helped me see the world in a whole new way.
In the past three years, I have been covered in vomit, snot, food, drool and other unmentionables. I have stayed up all day and all night holding a sick child in my arms and nursing them back to health. I have wiped tears, kissed boo boos, hugged little bodies tight and sung them to sleep at night.
To my darling children, I have learned to say I love you in so many ways I didn’t know existed. In the kisses of butterflies and Eskimos. In gentle hugs and bear hugs too. In the soft strokes against innocent cheeks, with a sweet, steady gaze into each others eyes. I have felt, spoken, and emoted in these complex and beautiful languages of love to you who made me a mother.
My 24/7/365 nurturing, caring, worrying, encouraging, dance that I do with you for the rest of my life is my choice. I was given you as a gift yet I choose you too. Every day, I choose to laugh at your only knock, knock joke. I choose to cheer loudly when you’ve conquered a challenge. I choose to dance around the house with you and sing silly songs. I choose to check on you in the middle of the night even though I know you are fine. I choose to be the best mom I can possibly be to you because I love you that much.
I’m no longer the cool young woman that I used to be but I’m ok with that because I’m a better version of myself. I used to think I had my finger on the pulse of what’s happening, but I realize now that it all pales in comparison to feeling your pulse on my lips as I give you a raspberry on the inside of your wrist.
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