Introductions can be awkward, but ours was downright painful.
In fact, let’s just be brutally honest here:
I still have moments where I wonder if we’re really cut out for each other.
I mean, she makes me so nervous and I’m never quite sure how to take her. Our first meeting was so rough, but bonding time over Double Stuf Oreos has helped.
After two days of labor, an inaugural visit to the operating room and minus almost every scrap of dignity I had accumulated in my 29 years —
Motherhood and I met — face to face.
Oh, sure, we’d had a passing acquaintance before this.
I’d played with baby dolls and babysat, but that was child’s play compared to the first all-nighter, get-to-know-you session Motherhood and I had. Those first few nights took away my ability to make coherent conversation and left behind a smattering of second thoughts.
No one really warned me about how pushy she could be — how she could sucker punch you with guilt one minute and make you feel so indispensable the next. She can make desperation dodge every step some days and doubt hover always.
Why does she seem like such good friends with everyone else who knows her?
Now, a few more years in, we’re not always best buds. I mean, some days are better than others. She points out my extensive list of shortcomings at least every other second and she makes mortality seem so much more real.
But for all that, there’s the reward.
Those baby kisses and dimpled grins. Oh, brother. There is a small matter of never being able to use the bathroom alone, but there’s also the magic of watching life grow and getting to cheer for all the good.
Motherhood has inspired a fabulous love for coffee and quiet and sleep. And my heart’s a goner when I hear those whispers in my ear: “Mom, I love you and I like you a lot.” Motherhood has taught me so much about endurance, joy, fear, treaty negotiations and love.
For all its ups and downs, Motherhood reminds me a little bit of those games of kick ball we played in third grade.
It’s an honor just to be on the team.