To my mom, on Mother's Day

NO ONE EVER TOLD ME

That baby poop isn’t that bad.

And that NO baby poop IS bad.

That saying “I’ll get to it later”, usually means, “I won’t end up getting to it”.

And that never getting to it isn’t really that important.

That you can buy the best teething toy on the market, and inevitably, he will go for the dish towel.

And that my finger is actually the best.

That being a mom would be this hard.

And that it would be this unbelievably awesome.

That I would pray for 2 hours of sleep.

But that I would treasure the time I wasn’t sleeping more.

That I would want to hold him just because.

And that I would never want to put him down.

That feeding him would make me feel like I had healed the sick.

And that rocking him to sleep would feel like I was holding an angel.

That I would bargain with GOD so much.

And that GOD would answer twofold.

That it is really, really hard work.

But that I would love it so much.

That no one has all the answers.

And that it is ok.

That it was possible to fall so madly and deeply in love.

And that that feeling could possibly get stronger with each day.

That his grin would light up my life.

And that his tears would break my heart.

That I would never sleep soundly again.

And that I wouldn’t mind it at all.

That it is normal to feel like I am doing a terrible job.

But that I am probably not.

That I would wish for a stop light to turn red.

And that time would be my most precious commodity.

That he would come first from now on.

And that I would not have it any other way.

That everyone’s advice while I was pregnant would be annoying.

But once he was here, I would be asking for it.

That what I always thought was love, was not even close.

And that I am lucky to know now.

That I would become closer to my own mom than I could ever comprehend.

And that I would wish I had done it sooner.