ode.

This post is inspired by something I read here.

I hadn’t thought about writing of the physical love that a mother feels for her child, not because I haven’t felt it, but some aspects of loving Claire seem either so personal or so big that I knew I couldn’t do them justice. After reading some beautiful posts from other blogging mamas, I knew I had to try.

I have never really been a “baby person.” When friends had babies, I was happy for them but wasn't one to want to hold or cuddle a baby. All of this changed the day I met Claire. Five months later, I still can’t get enough of her. Her smooth little cheeks, all of those little leg rolls. How she lounges in the bath pressed against me. I look at her and to me, she’s a miracle.

On more than one occasion, I have said out loud that I know that this child could break my heart. And sometimes there’s this tiny ache knowing that it’s all going to go so fast. Despite the certainty of her leaving our home, leaving me, I love her fiercely. Maybe that's the miracle of mothering. Despite our bruised hearts and baggage, despite how we sometimes feel about our own mothers, we go on loving our tiny ones, knowing full well that it can't last.

No one tells you that as a mother, sometimes calmly watching your baby in someone else’s arms feels as easy as calmly watching your husband climb into your bed with another. I am ridiculously protective of my small one. And sometimes it's hard to share. She's turned me into a sap. Just prior to taking out the camera, Claire was babbling and cooing. She apparently didn't want to perform for the camera, but, sap that I am, I still love watching her do nothing.