Mother’s Day is here.
It is my first, and I am the mother of a curious, energetic 9-month-old baby boy. He’s my world.
We are hours into the holiday and I now understand what it feels like to receive special recognition and acknowledgment on this day.
This is a day for those who no longer receive a solid 8-10 hours of sleep at night, but will gladly settle for 4 or 5.
This day is for those who now take 5 hours to get out of the house instead of 2.
This day is for those who have their breasts nibbled on throughout the night, or have to roll out of bed to warm up bottles at 2:30 a.m.
This day is for those who get to work by 8 a.m. and sit in meetings all day with people who don’t understand your commitment nor your sacrifice.
This day is for those who deal with achy backs and pelvic pain that feels like it’ll never heal.
This day is for those who turn into WWE wrestlers when it’s time to change a diaper.
This day is for those with partners don’t understand that your form of “tired” is on a totally different level.
Nobody understands except for other moms.
And mommy-to-be’s think they have it hard right now, but the first two nights after bringing baby home will be a difficult adjustment.
Motherhood — the hardship; the difficulty — is so underrated.
We do a lot. We feed, nurture, and cater to the world before we even get to ourselves. We oughta be told “thank you” every hour on the hour, but just keeping the wheels on the car will suffice.
As hard as motherhood is, I wouldn’t trade it in for anything else.