Mother's Day

Sunday, May 9, 2010 was my first Mother's Day. I got to spend the entire day with Drew, my parents, and my little sister (and her boyfriend). It was a very nice, relaxing day. We went to church, then had a little barbecue at my parent's house (Justin had to work all day).

I knew I wasn't getting a gift from Drew (erm, Justin. Drew doesn't have a job) but I was okay with that. We have more important things to be putting our money towards. But it really made me sit down and think: what is a mother?

The first definition I came across was "a term for the person having authority, status, and function as the female parent." Oh, okay, well thanks for clearing that up, Dictionary.com. The next was "someone that gives rise to or exercises protecting care over someone else." Much better. But how does this pertain to me?

I carried Drew for 9 months. And to be honest - while I loved him - I never really felt a "real" connection to him during that time. I loved every kick, and every hiccup... but it hadn't set in that it wasn't a cheeseburger but a baby in there. Then I went into labor. With every contraction I panicked a little more. I have to have a lisence to drive (and to be honest, I'm not even very good at that)... but they will just let me leave the hospital with a little, real PERSON?! Are you kidding me? How do you know I am equipped to handle that?! When I was told I was being rushed in for a c-section, I cried for MY lost experience. When I woke up and was told Drew had been taken to the NICU, I was kind of numb about it (although in my defense, I was high on morphine). But when I held that tiny little guy in my hands, I suddenly knew. This was it. This is where I was supposed to be. Through all the ups and downs of the hospitals visits, and through all the stresses that Justin and I face, I know that its all worth it.

I find myself a new person. The kind of person who adapts a Mickey Mouse-esque voice whenever I am trying to get my baby to smile. The kind of a person who can talk about a baby's bowel functions for an hour, and be proud and happy when he lets out a particularly big fart after a day of tummy troubles that left him cranky. The kind of person who can't think of a lullaby at 4am, so she paces the hallway singing "The Song That Doesn't End" (yeah, that happened last night).

All of my expectations of motherhood flew out the window the day Drew was born. And again when he was finally released from Hopkins. All I know now is that I am the kind of person who will put NOTHING before my son.

And thats the kind of person I want to be.