Nobody ever told me how much I would love being a mom. How I would watch them sleep, sometimes for hours, sacrificing my own sleep. How I would become that 'lick my thumb and clean their face' mom and still love it. How I would be the loudest hockey mom in the stands. How I would learn all the rules for hockey and soccer and baseball and all the sports I never knew anything about.
Nobody ever told me that there would be days I would hate being a mom. How I would wonder what ever happened to ME? Who is 'me' anyways? Nobody told me I would forget what music I used to listen to as it was slowly replaced with Bubble Guppie soundtracks and ABC's and 123 songs.
Nobody ever told me how fiercely I'd love my kids. How when I was pregnant I worried how I would ever have enough love for ANOTHER one and yet it was never an issue. Nobody told me how fiercely they would love each other. Or hate each other.
Nobody ever told me how fiercely I'd love my special needs kid. How I would relish in those proud moments. Moments that would otherwise be 'regular' moments for any other parent - but for me it was like my kid had just climbed a mountain - with no harness or ropes. Writing his name for the first time without tracing letters. Going potty on his own - not having asked for the ump-teenth time if he has to go. SPEAKING. Saying more than 3 words. Then saying more than 4 words. And then that first grammatically correct sentence. Said with ease and confidence like he really knew how to do it all along.
Nobody ever told me how much it would hurt. How badly you would want to scoop them all up and protect them in a bubble. how you never in your life could have imagined that you would want to claw out the eyes of a nine year old girl - because that nine year old girl just broke the heart of your nine year old boy.
Nobody ever told me how much you'd wish there was more time. More gurgles from babies, more snuggles from toddlers, more stories from school agers and just MORE TIME. How those early days would be so long. How the hot wet tears would flow so easily in the wee hours of the morning when the sun hadn't risen and your nipples hurt and your heart ached. And how years later the tears would flow again yearning to re-do those quiet moments alone gazing at the miracle you brought into the world.
