I was never really anxious to be a mother.
(I think I can say that now.)
Yes, it was in the plans, and I knew the day would come and I certainly never dreaded it, but still ... I did not want it to come too soon.
I was never the girl who followed moms around at church activities, asking to hold their babies and offering to babysit anytime. I hated babysitting, actually. Little punks scared me. And not long after my seven younger siblings came twenty-five nieces and nephews, so there was never a dearth of children in my life.
Biological clock what? Baby-hungry who? Not me.
I looked around at the women I know who became young mothers, and I felt a little sorry for them. At times I even felt a little sorry for myself.
So it's safe to say that Slice was much more excited for this baby than I was. He told me at least once a day throughout my pregnancy that he just could. not. wait. to have this child. And I thought about the crying, the long nights, the pain and frustration and lack of free alone time and complete eternal life change ahead, and I just smiled at him. I knew how hard parenthood would be. I was prepared for it.
What I wasn't prepared for was the joy that would come as well. I couldn't believe or understand before - despite what everyone tried to tell me - that this little creature would make my life infinitely better, just by being in it. That he would bring me joy I couldn't imagine. That I would love him so much for who he is and not for anything he's done. The love is incredible, life-changing.
Maybe some people can feel this love without becoming a parent, but I sure couldn't. Those young mothers have a beautiful secret. I don't feel sorry for them anymore.
And when my baby cries, I don't feel like pulling my hair out or gnashing my teeth or crying too. I even wait for him to wake up sometimes, just because I miss him.
I have become one of those people.