That’s what I always tell Finley. And it’s so true, isn’t it!? No matter how much I knew my mom loved me all of my 31 years (and counting), the love she [must] have for me all came into perspective when I had Finley. In light of Mother’s Day this Sunday, here’s just a glimpse of the kind of love that comes with a daughter..
When I insisted we keep our lights on dim the first night we brought you home so that I would be able to see you the minute I opened my eyes. How you slept by my side of the bed for the first eight months of your life and even when you slept through the night, I didn’t. How I held it together the entire time I got ready for my first day back at work, the day after my first Mother’s Day, but lost it the minute I pulled out of the driveway with you in the back seat to bring you to daycare. And listening to “A Comet Appears” by The Shins and “Transatlanticism” by Death Cab for Cutie with tears rolling down my cheeks the entire drive there. “Still to come, the worst part and you know it.” Yep, dropping you off at daycare was the worst part to come that morning. And “I need you so much closer…” I knew sitting at my desk at work while you were at daycare wouldn’t be close enough. How it was all I could do to not text Heidi every hour to see how you were doing for the first six months you were there.
The absolute joy and happiness I felt inside the first time you giggled. (The same exact feeling the first time you rolled over and said “puppy” and walked by yourself!) How my heart sank to my toes the day Lucy jumped over top of you when you were laying on the couch. Or the time the vacuum tipped over on top of you. And the first time you got shots and you had the mouth-wide-open-silence before the big cry. The compassion I felt for you the night I found you awake in your crib covered in puke; and the days that followed when you threw up multiple times looking so confused and innocent. That I felt worse for you being sick than I did for myself having to clean up someone else’s vomit at 3:00am.
How heartbroken I felt that week when you would cry when I picked you up at daycare. But how happy it would make me inside if you’d cry when I left you. Or when you’d repeat “mamamamamama” while you cried when we transitioned you to your crib. And even though hearing you call out to me made me smile, I’d tear up hearing your cries of sadness. All the countless times I would wake up in the middle of the night to lay you back down, give you your pacifier, and kiss your forehead. Or the nights you need to be held and rocked back to sleep. Knowing that no matter how exhausted or frustrated I am, I would be there in a heartbeat.
The look on your face and your joyful giggles when I push you in the swing or when you splash water in the bathtub and Lucy tries to catch it. How I’m totally ok with sitting in the back seat to keep you company during a long road trip. And my ritual of kissing you on the forehead when you are settled into your carseat, before I get into the driver’s seat. How I always am certain I can hear you crying when I’m in the middle of a shower or when we are miles apart.
How proud & giddy I feel with each of your milestones, big or small.
The excitement I feel when I think about the future with you, watching you learn and grow. But how much pressure I put on myself to do a good job of raising you to be a smart+kind little girl.
Now I get emotional during any commercials, TV shows, or movies that have sentimental interactions between a mom and child. And now, a perfect Friday night consists of regular weeknight routines with you, a glass of Apothic Red, Dateline & Shark Tank, and staying up just a little later than normal. Instead of sleeping in on Saturday, waking up with you to make you breakfast, listen & dance to music, and clean the house all before 10:00am. Eating dinner after you go to bed so that you can eat dinner, have a bath, and play first.
The days I feel defeated and have to be ok with not getting a thing done, but then remember that I certainly am being productive, because I am a mommy.
That making you laugh is a daily priority no matter how ridiculous I must look and sound.
Learning that no matter what I want to accomplish each day or how I might feel, being a mommy to you comes first. Like the day I was sick and had to put you down mid-bottle to run to the bathroom [to throw up], and then finish feeding you, wishing more than anything that I had my mom here to take care of me too. And knowing that she would be in a heartbeat if she could…
that’s just the kind of selfless+unconditional love you have for your child…
“You’ll never know how much I truly love you until you have your own baby someday.”
Happy Mother’s Day, fellow mommies!
In celebration of Mother’s Day, I invite all mommies to share a story about the love you have for your little ones, or why your mom is so special, or how she has made you feel so special! As part of the MOMery campaign Dropcam is doing, they will be sharing some of their favorite stories! For more information, contact Tiffany at — tpham(@)dropcam(.)com