Some women are just meant to become mothers. Everyone has a friend about whom you think, "She would be such a great Mom." Your friend is capable, comfortable with a crying child, confident in her own self. Maybe she's married, maybe she's not. She might be a proud aunt or sister. She may be a teacher or caregiver. Whoever she is, whether she can actually bear children or not, you just know, she would be the best kind of Mom.
By the best kind of Mom I mean the kind who would make homemade birthday cakes slathered in frosting, who would always has a minute (but just a minute sweetie) to crouch down at her child's level and build a castle out of blocks, and would (at least appear to) have endless patience with fourth grade science projects. Not a TV mom, none of the extremes of June or Roseanne, but a real Mom who loves her children with her whole heart.
I know now that motherhood begins when the idea of having a baby is mere gossip on the playground and continues on, through labor and delivery and birthdays and college graduation, following an endless thread. However, it is the new mother, cradling her floppy-necked, wrinkly baby with a mixture of protectiveness and awe, who is the epitome of maternal grace.
The new mother still remembers how much labor and delivery hurt, hasn't slept more than three hours at a time for three weeks, and is hoping that she is doing it right. Even though it has been two years since Bee was born, I still remember those days with the utmost clarity. Maybe it is impossible to ever forget.
But it is now my sister-in-law's turn to be washing tiny onesies and socks, to be nursing and rocking though the night, and as she and her baby drift in and out of sleep, to imagine what shape her daughter's future will take.
Congratulations J. You are the best kind of mom.
Love,
M
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