When a girl finds out she's going to be a mommy her world begins to change. Some changes happen in an instant, some happen slowly over time. When I found out you were in my tummy my love for you come in an instant and my presence changed too. People were left wondering why there was a new twinkle in my eye, and a new bounce to my step, as if I was carrying around a wonderful secret. I was, you! Slowly, they began to tell what was different. My body began to change. You changed my tummy, my hips, the size of my feet and fingers, even the size of my nose! But other changes occurred as well. You became more important than me in an instant so I changed the way I ate, moved, even the way I slept. Celebrity gossip, sitcoms, and the news no longer mattered, but rather the the latest findings on immunizations, consumer reports on car seats, and how to learn your cries became my choice of late night entertainment. When I found out you were sick, God showed me what the term "momma bear" really means, and how it's okay to say no to the world's mentality of convenience and selfishness, and yes to fighting for life no matter how it looks, to speaking for you no matter who or what I was up against because you needed me to, you depended on me to. The night you were born my love for you exploded in an instant. Over the next few months I learned you. I learned I could be so in tune with another being I knew what was wrong by a single grunt. I knew something had happened by the way my heart fluttered and tummy ached when I wasn't even in the same room as you. You taught me that simply watching you or making sure you were you were handled with care, your meds were on time, you were fed at an angle, and not touched for at least 20 minutes afterwards, you weren't positioned in a way you disliked, not too much noise was surrounding you, and you were not ignored when you showed you needed help were more important than food, showering, dressing even sleeping. My need to do things for you came in an instant. The process of learning the best thing I could do is pray took a long time and no other baby could have made me pray as passionately or desperately or allowed me to feel God's peace the way you did. My love for you has grown and changed who I am.
A baby changes a girl into a mommy some times quickly, some times slowly, some ways gracefully, some ways it's rough. Baby boy, you have changed me to my very core ... but now you are gone and what's a mommy to do? You took 12 months to teach me how to be a mommy but then you left me in an instant. What's a mommy to do? I still carry around a secret, a different secret now, the precious memory of you. My body will be forever changed, no longer the youthful tightness, rather the markings of endurance only a mommy experiences. But a mommy body without a baby in her arms feels so wrong. What's a mommy to do? You changed the way I slept, ate and moved but now you are gone. I have all the time to sleep, there's no reason to stop and think about what I eat, and coffee is no longer something for me to dream about. But my body requires less sleep, and doesn't like coffee or junk food now. What's a mommy to do? Now that you're gone no one is going to ask me how long breastmilk can sit out, or what's the best way to soothe an overstimulated baby. Now I have this wealth of knowledge I can't use. What's a mommy to do? The need for this new strength you gave me to fight for you left with you. A momma bear spirit with no baby cub manifests itself as a cranky, old grizzly. That's not the way I want to come across, it's just that you're gone now and I don't know what to do with this passion and left over fierceness. What's a mommy to do? I have this constant ache in my tummy and flutter in my heart, but now you're gone and I have no one to check on. What's a mommy to do? For three months, I spent every waking hour by your side making sure you were okay. Now you're gone and the hours painfully inch by. What's a mommy to do? You taught me the importance of quiet and stillness but without your "accessories" going off, it's too quiet. When people get loud I have this need to tell them to quiet down but you're not here for them to be queit for. What's a mommy to do? You became the center of my world. You became the forefront of my every action, thought, intention. You changed me, I am no longer just a girl. You made me a mommy in every definition of the word, but now you are gone and I am left forever changed. A childless mother, it just feels awkward and so wrong. I can never go back to who I was and I am so thankful to you for that You have forever changed me, my baby boy, but now you have left me . . .What's a mommy to do?