It's almost Mother's Day. Even in the wake of burying my beautiful, beloved mom, it is still my favorite day of the year. It's not becuase of the #1 Mom masterpieces, the cereal-and-brown-banana breakfasts in bed, or even the sweet kisses and declarations of love. It's because I am fortunate enough to be a mom. Motherhood is not a gift all women receive. And I know some moms don't get enough time on earth to fully raise a child.
Each morning, I have the privilege of waking up my fondest dream realized...even when he begs me for five more minutes in bed, screams "mom!" 1,042, 747 times before breakfast or delays getting dressed until I have threaten to take his bike away. On Mother's Day, my heart is with him, exactly where my mom would want it to be. On Mother's Day, I smile, as she would want me to. On Mother's Day, the love that flows between my child and me brings her love to the forefront of my mind, overwhelming me with memories that do not involve a cemetery.
To be a mom was a gift that my mom cherished, and I cherish. Here's what it means to be a mom:
To be a mom means I lost more than 350 hours of sleep during my son's first year of life alone. I will forever miss those sleepless nights with my sweet boy, nursing him, holding him, loving him. I gained so much during those lost hours.
To be a mom means I observe every milestone with a sense of wonder. How can it be possible my once defenseless baby now delivers a mean right hook? Yesterday, he was immobile. Today, he is jumping off the couch, superhero style, nearly missing my 12-pound dog to ensure I am hyper-vigilant.