I Became a Mom

Almost 4 years ago , this little man made me a Mom. He came into the world rather dramatically, 7 weeks too early. I remember watching the nurse carry him away, only catching a brief glimpse of him and yelling to my husband to tell me what color hair he had. Not if he was breathing, but what color his hair was. The epidural makes you a little loopy, I guess.

The first time I saw him, I couldn't even hold him. I could only reach my hand out from my hospital bed. His tiny little fingers wrapped around mine and I was in love. I became a Mom.

I didn't know then what it really meant to be a Mom. But this 3 pound 4 ounce person, would teach me so much about just what it means to be a Mom and who I am and exactly what I am capable of.

He taught me fear. Fear that he wouldn't make it, fear there would be something wrong with him. He taught me relief when he was perfectly healthy.

He taught me loss when I had to leave him at the hospital. he taught me loneliness when I was home without him. He taught me overwhelming joy when I got to bring him home and how full one tiny little person could make a home.

He taught me just how tired one person could be. He taught me just how much I was capable of on a mere 3 hours of sleep.

He taught me to see things again for the first time; the wonder of looking at the ocean for the first time, or the excitement of playing in an empty box.

Love. A love that I never knew possible. A love that can overflow your heart. A love that can strip you down and break you to your core.

Being a Mom changes your physical self too. I'm no longer the svelte beauty I once was (haha). My pre-pregnancy clothes no longer fit. My boobs sag a little more and my hips may be a little wider. I have battle scars. But within my body, I carried life. His life. My son.

Through all the good, the bad, the scary and the happiness, there is no greater love, no greater joy than being a Mom.

And today, a Mom, I will gladly be.

 

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A Different Kind of Monday

It's Monday, but it's not like any other Monday before it. I woke up to a new "normal". Out of sorts doesn't even begin to describe how the morning went. I was up later than normal and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Chris and got in each other's way in the bathroom. He's says, "hey, you were supposed to be done in here already." And, yes, I should have been, but today was a different kind of Monday.
There was no hair to do and no make up to put on. No jewelry to choose, or heals clicking down the hall. Just the squeak of my flip flops.

Today was the first day that I didn't have to go to work. I was now a writer/author/stay-at-home mom.

Chris made it to the train and Brandon and I headed to my Mom’s house. Just like any other Monday. Except it wasn’t and I wasn’t rushing worrying about being late for work.

We got to Mom’s and I hung around until after Brandon had breakfast. And I left my Mom’s with a mission and a purpose. I’ve had a plan since I found out when my contract was up. But, things never go as planned.

I got home and made the beds. And then I paced. And then did a little more pacing. I had no idea what to do with myself. I made a laundry list the night before of tasks I wanted to accomplish and calls that needed to be made. I had good intentions, really, I did. But on this different kind of Monday, I was lost.

This isn’t the first time I had ever been home. I stayed home until Brandon was 16 months old. I knew what needed to be done, but I was severely out of practice.

Then it hit me. My inspiration…ORGANIZING!!!

I straightened Brandon’s room and then ironed Chris’ clothes…for the week. I made dinner and did the dishes.

Kelly got her groove back.

Here’s to a different kind of Monday.