Dear Mommy

Dear Mommy,

These are words unspoken but really, I’d love to say them out loud to you over and over, every day and every hour and every time we speak — I just don’t know how. Maybe when I put pen to paper, I’ll be able to express my thoughts more clearly.

Motherhood is one of those experiences that you can never quite imagine or prepare for beforehand. I thought about it, of course, during those endless nine months of waiting, and honestly, long before that, too. I tried to picture exactly what my life would look like, what would change, how I would change. But when motherhood barreled into my life full force, I was left breathless and shaking.

At first, I was too exhausted and overwhelmed to process much at all. But slowly, I started thinking coherently. And now every time I gently lift my baby to feed her, each time I change her diaper and wipe her spit-up, when I bathe her and dress her and sing to her and rock her slowly to sleep, I can’t help but be awed — you did all this for me, Mommy.

It started all the way at the beginning, when you battled nausea and exhaustion in the first trimester; when you visited me in seminary you pointed out where you’d stagger off the bus to throw up, before getting back on to make your unsteady way to work. But back then I just nodded, without really comprehending. You plowed through the middle few months before reaching the uncomfortable third trimester, replete with the accompanying exhaustion and discomfort of the extra pounds I gifted you with. When you sympathized with me while I was expecting, I forgot that you’d gone through all that, too — for me! Had I ever thought about that before? Thanked you for it? Does anyone?