being Mom

I've been thinking about motherhood, or "momhood" as I like to call it. I really hope that Nora never calls me "Mother" because that just sounds so old. In this thinking, I've suddenly realized that she's almost two. Jesus Christ. The terrible twos are quickly approaching, though I think they've begun really. We're in that stage now, and I am trying to fight it, and I honestly don't have the slightest idea of how to do so. Nor do I know if I am doing anything right at all.

All that is to say, that as I was doing this I thought back to the day she was born. There are lots of things I could say about that day, but one things that really sticks out in my head is the question, "Well, Lauren, how does it feel?" It being momhood. All sorts of thoughts raced through my head, but I always answered with the predictable "wonderful" and with a smile. I made a mental note to never, ever utter than phrase, especially to anyone who's just gone through a life-altering experience. If I have another child, I think I'll answer that question less predictably.

I wish someone would ask me now. While I still have no clue able what I'm doing, I could give a much better answer. Right after she was born I wanted to say, "terrible" or "fucking scary." Now, now I'd say so much more than that. Of course, terrible had more to do with my physical condition than with being a mom, though that rush of hormones was quite terrible.

It feels like a head resting on shoulder, fitting perfectly into that little nook that I'd always found useless. It feels like small hands pushing me from my side to my back in the middle of the night so that a little someone can be more comfortable directly on top of Mama. It feels like the bliss that comes with that first real laugh and the millions to follow. It feels like slimey baby puke making my t-shirt stick to my chest and my hair smell like spoiled milk. It feels like an absolute rush of adrenaline at that cry I instinctively know as the real thing. It feels like the tiredness that ensues after a long night spent with a sick baby whose every breath is difficult. It feels like pure love, the kind that truly never ceases. It feels scary as hell and as confusing as calculus. It feels overwhelming and wonderful and exhausting and rewarding. It feels good.