I've always been pretty open with friends and family about my "bad" mothering. It goes in line with my regular formula of self-deprecation, humor and honesty, but I do feel the need to elaborate a little to you in the event things get nuts as you grow older and I suddenly lose my fantastic ability to communicate. So here I go, for the record:
I wanted you from the moment of conception. In fact, I wanted you long before that. I grew up wanting to be a mother. I never had many dreams of careers, success or money - but I did always dream about being a mom. From the moment your father and I met I was clear that I wanted kids. In fact, I wanted them right away. He wasn't ready and it took him about 7 years to get there. But eventually he got on board and we decided to try for you. As I would later learn about you - you took awhile. In fact, after several months of trying to conceive I gave up on the idea and decided to go to Europe. The following month I found out I was pregnant with you.
To say I was overjoyed doesn't begin to describe it. I was excited, nervous and scared - but most of all excited. Finally you were coming. We had a few scares along the way, but after 9 months of anticipation you were finally born. And then the dream became a reality. Once you were born I had no idea what to do with you. I was terrified and awkward. I'd always wondered what kind of father your dad would be - but suddenly he was the natural and I was... not.
The first night in the hospital it was just me and you. You cried most of the night, I cried, I wondered if I could give you back, I realized I had made a terrible mistake and I was going to be a terrible mother. Those feelings continued for the next 9 months. I later realized much of that was post-partum depression. Also, like any dream becoming a reality, it wasn't quite as blissful as I pictured. After about 9 months I started to be able to breathe. The anxiety started to abate and I started to get the hang of mothering. Yet still I felt disconnected from you and it scared me beyond explanation. I absolutely loved you, with that there was no doubt, but I didn't feel the connection I had always heard about. As I tell it to my friends, the skies didn't open and the angels didn't sing.
As you started to grow and your personality started to shine I felt more and more connected. The day you took your first steps (Super Tuesday!) was one of the happiest moments of our lives. The day you first ate spaghetti and smeared it all over your face while laughing was wonderful. And day by day I felt closer to you and more in love. One day, when you were about 15 months old we laid down together for a nap (as we usually did as it would ensure you would actually fall asleep). I remember you turning to me and smiling, and at that moment I felt the love, connection and adoration I had been expecting. At that moment the skies opened and the angels sang. My heart was filled with more love than I had ever experienced.
But as always happens, reality once again returned. There have been moments in motherhood that I should be embarrassed to admit (if I were ever embarrassed by things). There have been moments when I have yelled at you much louder and meaner than is right by a mother. There have been moments when I have grabbed you by the arm and later prayed there were no bruises. There have been moments when I have lost my temper to a point that I swore as a small child I NEVER would. There have been moments when I have had to walk away to prevent myself from hurting you. And every single one of those moments terrified me and broke my heart because it is not the kind of mother I want to be to you. I want to be the absolute best of my ability because you deserve absolutely nothing less.
But it takes work. It takes going to bed and swearing that I will be better. It takes praying to God that I become calmer, more patient, more understanding and more gentle. It takes waking up in the morning and being determined to smile at 7am and chat as much as you like. And slowly, I have improved as a mother. Nothing brings me more enjoyment than lying in bed with you before naptime/bedtime and softly chatting with you. My heart sings when you come sit in my lap and ask question after question trying to figure out a concept. I swell with pride when you learn a new task or show off one of your many charming skills. I am not, nor will I ever be, perfect. But I need you to know that I will always try to be better. I will always work to be the best mother in the world to you. I will always be open to your criticisms and try to adjust to your needs. And while it took a while to come - I love you (and will ALWAYS love you) more than anything or anyone else in this world.
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