This year our birthdays feel different. Becks’ jump to six felt huge; an official See Ya Later to baby years. And Coop’s bounce from eight to nine feels similar. But I can’t put my finger on it. He’s not change like a baby to boy or boy to tween. He still simply a boy. But Nine feels different.
Maybe it’s the first time that a birthday mades me feel older. How has it been nine years? How have I been doing this for nine year? It feels like Motherhood has always been me and yet I know this is undeniably false.
Nine years ago my life changed in ways I wasn’t prepared to handle. Every mother attempts to prepare for Motherhood, but we fail. And that’s ok because it’s impossible to prepare for this journey. The first baby is rattled with uncertainty and trial/error decisions. I choose Motherhood with his pregnancy and I jumped into the decision with so much fear it could be viewed as Insanity. I wish I could say, I became confident enough that the fear slid away. But I’ve become wise enough to know the fear will never subside. There will always be questions cloaked in fear: will he be bullied, will he make good choices, will he be healthy, will he be a good friend, will he get into an accident, will he be able to handle stress, etc. That fear is a constant hum because the love is so strong.
For nine years, I’ve been doing my best every single day with a “Manual” that changes rapidly, missing pages, and clueless authors. I had to trust my instincts which were honed on non-baby experiences. My instincts got stronger and I gained some confidence, but there’s still fear, chaos, and uncertainty that resembles madness.
But he makes it doable.
He’s my adventure. He’s my compass. He’s one of the reasons I roll out of bed. He’s the reason life is better. He’s the reason I’m better.
He’s simply my reason for everything.