As I was folding laundry with my 5 1/2 month old next to me in his bumbo seat, I realized how much I love my life.
I sat pulling laundry out of a basket, folding them, and setting them aside in piles. I watch my son grabbing his pile of toys, and throwing them to his side, just as he watches his momma do the same. Something so simple made my heart swell. He watches every move I make, observing, learning. I kiss his little cheeks and thank God that He made me a mommy. Thank You for choosing me.
I’ve read so many articles about motherhood before and during my own experience. Have you ever noticed how so many of them are dripping with negativity? “You’ll never sleep again,” “They whine and cry and never give you a second alone.” Okay, sometimes these things are true. BUT, and it’s a big BUT…
Society makes it seem like having a baby is a death sentence. When in reality, this is the happiest and easiest moment I have ever experienced in my life. Does that make me a brat? No matter how tired I am, I love waking up to the little smiling face of my son. I love watching all of the wonder in his face as he watches the world through innocent eyes, experiencing the simple things for the first time. I love watching him examine his fist and fingers for minutes at a time as if they are the most amazing things he’s ever discovered. Or watching him struggle to reach his toes when his abdomen is not yet strong enough to do a crunch. I love watching the smirks he makes when he sleeps, or listening to the whimper he makes when he’s having a bad dream, wondering what experience in his 5 1/2 months produces an unpleasant emotion, and how can I shield him from that in the future? I love that when he wakes up, always greeting me with a smile, spreading his sunshine even on the rainiest of days.
These are the simple pleasures that make my life so beautiful. I might not get to shave my legs every time I shower, or spend hours primping on myself like I used to. I might not be able to spend hours shopping, or go as I please like my younger self. But those things don’t even matter to me anymore. I love being a mother. These are the little sacrifices that I make to be able to watch my son grow and blossom. And even on the days that I haven’t been able to shower, when the demands of the house and baby and husband need me more than my need to fix my appearance, my son still looks at me as though I am the most beautiful being in the world, seeing me as I see him: perfect in his simplicity, just the way he is. My husband still kisses me with all of the love in his heart, expressing his appreciation for all I do, and messy hair or not, I feel like the luckiest and most beautiful woman in the world.