When my son was born, I didn’t know that a baby can be a mom’s greatest joy and her worst nightmare. The fact that he came out screaming should have been a clue. When the nurse put that squirming, squalling bundle in my arms on the delivery table, I started singing “Jesus Loves Me.” Andres quieted down instantly, and my heart nearly burst. I’d sung that song every day during my pregnancy. As soon as I finished my song, he went right back to crying.
The next day I walked out of the hospital holding my brand new baby, with no clue about what awaited me. I didn’t know about pacing the halls with a baby at 2:00 a.m. I survived the first months of mothering, and by the time my baby was 4 months old, I felt almost human.
Most days the joy swallowed up the nightmare part. I was over the moon with delight the first day Andres said, “Mama.” I fell in love all over again when we bought him his first guitar, a painted wooden toy. He plunked himself down on the cement at the market. He strummed and crooned, “Guitar, guitar, guitar.” My heart swooned.
And when my Camilla was born, her dad and I were goners. She stole our hearts.
Although I loved being a mom, some days went south…
Follow me to Kristi Wood’s place to read the rest of my story. Kristi is a sweet friend and a talented writer. I’m honored to write for her blog today.