mother

I grew up in a rather large family. And I don't mean 4 or 5 kids, I mean 8. I was the oldest of the 8, and therefore helped raise the rest. Everyone always told me I'd be a good mom someday, and I agreed. I thought that it would be easy for me, because I'd had so much experience.

It's amazing how quickly that experience disappeared when my daughter was born. Sure, I didn't have as many anxious moments as a new mom with no experience, but taking care of someone else's child can never fully prepare you to care for your own. The first few weeks included several phone calls to my mother asking things that I thought I'd never have to ask. "Mom, she has a 99° temperature, should I be worried?" Mom would patiently look it up on the internet for me (something I could have done easily, but it was so much more re-assuring for her to tell me). 

Fortunately, I didn't have some of the problems I hear about in "new mother horror stories." For example, my girlfriends (neither of which are married, my best friend is in college a couple hours away) fell in love with my daughter and we've remained good friends. I didn't have to worry about being found dressed in sweats and covered in spit-up (i got dressed every day and my baby rarely spits up). I was able to take showers when I wanted them, mostly due to the fact that my husband was only working about 10 hrs a week at the time. Instead of having the horrible feelings of guilt when I went back to work, I got so bored at home that I went back 3 1/2 weeks post-partum. 

It's amazing how so much can change in only a few months. Khloe (my daughter) is 7 1/2 mos now. Now I have a hard time leaving her in the mornings and after lunch when I have to work. Last night she was up on and off all night crying, and there was nothing I could do for her. It amazes me that even after all that, I just wanted to go home and hold her. I think I must be settling into my role as a mother now, since I'm making it through my day on such a small amount of sleep. 

One thing that I often forget to do, is to really think about Khloe. To think of what she does and to treasure the little things. To think about how cute it is when she scoots across the floor (apparently crawling isn't her thing). To think about how she can eat some of my food now when I remember her not being able to do any of it.

Every day is a special day full of memories waiting to be made. My journey as a mother has only begun, and I look forward to the years ahead.