Spoiler alert: My mom.
2. Cook anything other than toast
I wasn't sure how to accept and make sense of my new identity.
If I spent all my time dreading the "wait untils" or worrying about the next difficult thing around the corner, when would I have time to enjoy all the wonderful, amazing, incredible things that a child brings to a parent's life?
Today, our neighborhood was affected by the Columbia Gas explosions in Massachusetts—and I keep replaying the last few hours in my head over and over. Today was one of those unimaginable days that then become a reality.
I realized that a mother, no matter her age or the age of her children, always puts her baby first. Always.
I cried as my four-month maternity leave drew to a close. I resented the fact that I had to choose between my job and a tiny being who needed me.
Your doctor's office is one surprising resource.
I've been where you are. I was there, and I lost myself 1,000 times. But—I'm here to tell you—I've made it to the other side.
The wine culture that social media often promotes might seem to contradict this, but more and more moms are choosing not to drink.
I know you are wondering how you got here, how time moved this quickly, how the child you thought would stay little forever is ready to walk away from you for the first time. It's okay to hold on as long as you can. It's okay to reminisce even though you still have so many wonderful years to go.
I didn't know that when you would fall asleep on my chest, it would feel like my heart moved up to greet you.
Losing a parent so young is the antithesis of the gift that keeps on giving. Every special occasion, every achievement, every milestone in my life is a reminder that she's not here.
Some days will be full of wonder. Some days will be hard. Let the good days fuel your passion for learning but don't let the tough ones take the fun out of it.
I'm loving my new role as a mother, and I think I'm doing a pretty great job. But I also miss being able to be a good friend.
She opened my eyes to the fact that all mothers are imperfect—just like our friendship.
And I thank the heavens above that my little girl has you as a grandmother.