Half a Year of Motherhood...
I don't know how I can possibly express how my world has changed since April 20th. A million words come to my mind and I feel like I could write thousands of pages full of my love for Annie and James. But the one thing that is just itching to get out of me is how absolutely wonderful motherhood is. Everyone said it would be. But I think perfectly describing motherhood would require a whole new adjective of its own. It is simply indescribable. I have discovered the thing that makes it is incredible is Annie's individual spirit. In my eyes, she is the most special person ever created.
Every morning James brings Annie in from her crib. As I watch her kick her little feet against the sheets to inch toward me my mind spins back to the first time those very same little feet kicked my ribs from the inside. It is the same motion. Any other person who saw her squealing across the bed would think she is just your typical baby. But not me. Those kicks are hers and hers only. And I know them.
A friend recently asked "how do you do it? Don't you get bored? Isn't it hard?" And don't get me wrong, there are those moments. Just ask James, I ask him to praise my motherly work on a daily basis. Staying at home is a hard and under appreciated job. No one will ever pay me more just because I am doing a good job. I won't ever receive an award or a shiny plaque with my name on it. It is absolutely selfless. But I'd like to come clean about something. It is also selfish.
Because I am with her every second of every day - I am her person. I am the one who knows the way she rolls her fingers across new textures and against the side of her crib. I am the one that gets to see her beaming grin and thumping legs when I open the door after her nap. I am the one she smiles up at while she eats. I am the one that knows what she wants. I am the one that sees the twinkle her in her eye when her Daddy is home. And I am the one that gets the snuggles after a head bonk or a big topple.
I want to be that for her. The thought of anyone else being there when she bonks her head or giggles at a new sound makes my stomach tumble. Just thinking about it takes jealously to a whole new level. I want to be there. I don't want to share that with anyone besides her sweet Daddy. And that is most definitely selfish.
"There had never been anyone like you...ever in the world," it is a line from a book my cousin Lisa sent us. After I read it, I kept going to Annie's room to peak into her crib. Never has anyone like you ever come to this world. You are the only you. As it says in Psalms, "You were fearfully and wonderfully made." Your spirit, personality and look is not a duplicate, and it will never be duplicated. You are literally one in a hundred billion. And I get to know you the very best. Me. I get to do that. And that my friends is lucky, it selfish, it is daunting and it is absolutely wonderful.
Thank you for choosing me to be your Mommy Annie. I adore every.single.thing about you.