Reflection.

In a few days I will wake up to a one year old Son.

The light and love this kid has brought into our lives is too much for words. I've been taken aback, gobsmacked, in awe at just how much you can love one little tiny human.

I never considered myself a maternal person. I never had a dream to be a Mother. I didn't feel it was my calling. I didn't ache to hold a tiny newborn, or get all gooey over that newborn baby smell. In fact I didn't even know how to hold a newborn, let alone care for one! I was personally terrified about being a Mother. The responsibility, expectation... all of it. I just couldn't picture myself as that person. As a Mother. The only thing I new was that I loved my other half, and together we would have a family. Don't get me wrong. I wanted children,  I just was never sure if I was ready. Mr D was ready well before I was I think, and I managed to find excuses as to why 'now was not a good time'.

So jump forward 9 or 10 months. I'd obviously given in and decided I was ready.

If you have sound - please play this song while you read... it might make my words more meaningful and disguise the fact that what I'm about to say isn't written how I want it to be. I'm struggling with words. 

I remember lying in my bed (with heartburn) in those last final days before he made his way into the world. I'm not sure if it was the heartburn keeping me awake at night or the toilet stops, or more so my anxieties. What kind of Mother would I be? Would my child love me? Am I enough for him? Am I ready for this? I remember vividly lying there, and struggling to picture this 'bump' in my arms. I was so stressed that I wouldn't love him properly (I know, I'm ridiculous), and he would feel that I didn't know what I was doing and I'd let him down somehow.

Well, ready or not, he made his way into the world after 8 hours of labour on the 8th of the 8th, 2012.

Floating in the birthing pool at 4.00am (pre-delivery) listening to the song above - Always Waiting.
This song will forever in my heart be mine and Arthur's. His Dadda was sleeping on the floor of the birthing suite, as I floated in the pool rubbing my bursting, tight belly, breathing through contractions, keeping a raft of emotions at bay. Anxiety, excitement, exhaustion, pain...

How perfect were the lyrics to our song;

My soul is yawning, and I'm longing too. 
Seen my day tiring, seen me breaking through
My time is coming soon
So I'm waiting
I'll be waiting for you, my friend. 

And so, with a babe in my arms at 10.35am, my world was complete. We became a family and I was forever changed. I have a greater level of patience and compassion. I stop to notice the world's beauty I so often overlooked. I have a new appreciation and understanding of innocence. I have responsibilities, challenges and no more sleep ins.

But overall I have love. I don't even care that this post is sickeningly gushy. I'm not even sorry if you vomited in your mouth a little bit, or think that I'm embarrassing. I have a feeling I've surprised those closest to me with just how I've taken to this role. I've surprised myself, that's for sure. I'm far from a perfect Mother. That doesn't exist. I have faults and flaws, but Arthur forgives me. He knows nothing else.

That, my friends, is what they call unconditional love.

Minutes after entering the world, all scrunched up. I'm exhausted, but so content. "We made it little bear...we made it."

I remember this as if it were yesterday. I can still feel the moment they placed him on my chest. A year on, when he places his head on my chest, I'm still taken back to this. I think that's why I melt, every time. 

And then his Daddy got a hold. He dressed him for the very first time and held him and held him and held him. 

I loved that day.

So there it is in a nutshell. My personal reflection of (nearly) a year as a Mother.