a new kind of love

I thought becoming a mother would change me.

Don't get me wrong, it has.
The self sacrifice it requires is beyond anything I had previously experienced...
But I am still me. Whoever that is.

As you nurse at my breast for the tenth time today,
the thought crosses my mind that feeding you feels perpetual.
I enjoy it, I truly do, but I do enjoy other things too. I feel constantly tied to your needs. Driven by a force beyond my consciousness.
You are a piece of me.

When I see aspects of me, I think I love you the way I love my limbs.
I need you.
I want you to be okay and healthy and strong.

I love the aspects of your father I see in you—the way you wiggle your eyebrows and make me smile.

And then I see aspects that are entirely your own and I feel a love that is entirely new.
I also feel a fear that I refuse to name and give life to.

You started to laugh recently. It is more like a happy yell, but something about it makes it distinctly laughter.
Your dad made you laugh first. He was saying, "bababababa" and smiling at you.
You also laughed when we imitated your happy yells and we had what we called a yelling contest, increasing pitch and speed until we were all happy-yelling together.

And now you're asleep beside me. Snoring softly and wrapped up tight in your sleep sack.
Today while you slept in my lap and I watched Battlestar Galactica, I played with the little hair you have (a tuft of dark hazel hair on top and a bit of a mullet). It looks like you inherited my cowlicks. I would like to braid it someday when it gets long enough.

Your eyes are steely gray. Sometimes they look dark blue and I think they are getting darker. I wonder what they will look like when you get older.
I wonder what your future siblings' eyes will look like.
I wonder if I'll be a capable enough mother to give you siblings.
What does it take to be a capable mother?

I have lots of patience.
I've only broken down crying a few times from exhaustion.

Loving my child deeply and completely requires loving and accepting myself as I am.

Perhaps a lot of parent-child tension comes from the fact that we see ourselves in our children--we see our own flaws, quirks, and weaknesses. And those of their other parent, too.

Our children are our mirrors.

I need to be my best self--and love that self-- in order to be the best possible mother.

Taking care of myself is necessary for taking care of her.