I’m trying to pinpoint when the change went from – “We’re having a baby!” to “She’s having a blowout!” The day I became a mom.
I’m not talking about when you push a watermelon out of your hoo-ha. Sure, something inside of you changes when you hold that squishy ball of smell-good. But things had been changing for a while.
It wasn’t when we stopped the pill. Being a mom was the furthest thing from my mind when we were actually trying to make a kid.
I didn’t become a mom when I was brushing my teeth and saw “pregnant” on the stick. I was equally filled with joy and horror that day, but felt zero parts mom.
It wasn’t when I watched The Business of Being Born on Netflix and realized I should probably know more about my body than I do (I’m supposed to do what now?).
No, I don’t think it was ever one day for me.
It wasn’t the 289 days I spent pregnant. No, those days were spent napping, eating cookies, and making lists to be perfectly prepared (that I still haven’t dented).
When I was in labor? Technically that wasn’t even a day, 28 hours to be exact.
No, it wasn’t a day.
Are there levels of becoming a mom? Are you more of a mom because you have five kids? Or am I more of a mom because I read all of the books?
What about the moms who spend years trying before they get the pink positive sign? The moms who never get to hold their babies? The moms who adopt? When did they become moms?
No, it’s not a day.
Whether you are on your knees tying little shoes, on your knees vomiting from morning sickness, or on your knees praying for lives yet to exist, we have always been moms. We were made with this untapped love, with natural instincts. We were made to mother these children.
Some days may not feel like it. And although becoming a mom doesn’t come down to a day, let’s waste no time in making every day count.
We were Made for Mommin’. Let’s dig in.