When I felt
This Sunday is Mother’s Day. A day up until I had a baby myself was mostly about remembering to buy my mum a card. It was all about her.
Then I had a daughter and, suddenly, here was a day to celebrate me, and getting through the year (mostly) unscathed.
So, here we are, it’s Mother’s Day and I think it’s time we all high-fived each other for making it through!
It's Mother's Day
So that means you have to take cheesy B&W pictures with me.
The funny thing is, it wasn’t through my pregnancy, it wasn’t when she popped out and I stared, unblinkingly, struggling to believe she was here. It wasn’t when we put her in her brand new car seat or stopped for the classic family photo as we came through the front door.
It was at some point in the wee small hours of our first night at home; the place I hope she grows up in and dreams of when she’s an adult, the place she always considers home, wherever she is.
It was looking at her tiny, screaming body and realising that I didn’t have a clue what to do, but that there was no other way; me and her were going to have to work it out. She was my daughter and I was her mum.
In many ways, since then, it probably looks to most people like having Indy has made me more of a child. I crawl around on hands and knees pretending to be a - real - cat, I go down slides, whooping with glee, only partly using the excuse that my daughter needs me to have her back. I shout ‘nee naw’ when I see a flashing light and I am always, always, covered in something: mud, yogurt, play doh, the wrong size of clothes…
But, really, she’s been the making of me. The mum-me. These days, I go to bed early and wake early (although not necessarily by choice) something I would rarely do before, I have a medicine cabinet and books on first aid. I try to keep my finances in order because I think a lot about her future. I have a fruit bowl. A fruit bowl! And, if that’s not peak adulthood, I don’t know what is.
Most of all, however, what she has taught me is how to truly and completely put someone else first.
It’s not that I didn’t care before, it’s that I care so much now. When she’s sad or hungry, thirsty or fallen off her scooter, when she needs a cuddle, doesn’t have the words to express how she feels or she really door-slamingly hates me, I will be there. I can’t not be.
And, although it was in it’s infancy, that was what I realised during our first night at home together. I was her mum and, no matter how she feels about me, I want her to know that she can rely on me.
That was the moment I realised I was a mum…
And, of course, that I would get to celebrate the joy of that responsibility with a box of chocolates and a card every March!
Happy Mother’s Day, mamas!