It is my first Mother’s Day to be a mother. Three months into this new role, however, it doesn’t always feel real. After all, I feel like the same person inside as I was last year and the year before, but today I’m being celebrated.
Some people have asked if I’m excited for my first Mother’s Day, but the fact is that it hasn’t really connected for me. Reality is still settling in that I have a child, and that he will one day call me Mom. I am glad this holiday exists but not because I want extra attention or appreciation; if anything makes this Mother’s Day extra special or unique, I think it’s because it is the first year that I have really appreciated my own mom.
I am the oldest child, so mothering Torre has given me some glimpses into what my own babyhood may have been like – no other kids around to take my mom’s attention, everything new for both of us and my dad. I think about the hours I’ve spent just looking at my son, wondering what kind of boy he will be, and what kind of man; the amazement and joy I feel at his small milestones, the patience that wells up at his smiles when he poops in a just-changed diaper. But I was going to try not to talk about poop.
Loving a child has given me a deeper sense of how loved I am by my mom, and also by God. I have loved him since before I knew his name or his birthday, and before I was able to hold his tiny hand. It amazes me how deep this love runs, my heart brimming full at a smile or a snuggle. In future years, there will be gifts, and that will be sweet (although I am not a very gifty person – not great at giving them, and not too concerned about receiving them), but this year the best gift I can think of is motherhood itself.