Whew. I am beat from almost full timing it this week with work. It’s my last week before officially going on maternity leave, which, for a freelancer, basically means being unemployed for 1-2 months. No FMLA for this one-woman operation, unfortch. If only the government knew just how important catching those comma splices is.

Between that and finishing the nursery and making a 63 item honey-do list for Clayton, there hasn’t been much time to just sit and process how my life is about to be upended. In a fabulous way, of course, but upended nonetheless.

I like babies. I tend to get along with them just fine. When my best friend had her little nugget six months ago, I completely fell in love and taking care of him felt strangely natural. That was incredibly reassuring.

What has been weighing on my mind lately is what happens when I don’t have a baby anymore. Not like, surrogate-style giving up my kid, but when that little bundle of unintelligible coos and wiggles becomes a child solely dependent on her parents for her wellbeing. I am pretty certain there is no more important or more overwhelming prospect I will face in this life.

I am a mother.

I’m not sure I even know how to define that for myself, much less jump into embodying that role for an actual human being any second. And the icing? It’s a girl. I have so many doubts and fears about my ability to relate to and raise a fully contributing female member of society.

What if she wants to be called a princess for 3 years straight and wear nothing but tiaras and tutus?

What if she has absolutely no interest in athletics?

What if reading bores her?

What if I can’t even bribe her into a healthy interest in dinosaurs?

What if being outside is icky?

What if our personalities are utterly incompatible throughout her formative years?

The craziest part is that worrying about such struggles with my baby girl is tragically sad to me because

I already love her so much.

Beyond ensuring her health and safety, I am desperate to simply know her. To understand her. To create a world in which she can be exactly who she is, tiaras and all. To facilitate a relationship with each other that we both cling to in every season of life. 

And maybe that is enough. Maybe that is all this little girl needs from me, her Mama, to become the absolute best version of herself.

Actually, that sounds like a pretty perfect definition of a mother to me.

baby legs


3 thoughts on “Bracing.

  1. You are going to be an amazing mother. I watch how Addison (only days old) turns or “stills” at the sound of your voice. This will never change through the seasons of her life. The sound of your voice will always be unique for her and her favorite sound of all! Mommy’s voice always calms fears, doubts, anxiety and stops tears. It’s magical and you are the magician!!

  2. You will be great at relating and being a awesome Mom! I have no doubt! You and I are friends and get along just fine even though I love tutu’s and tiara’s and think that the outside can be icky sometimes…. =)

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