A Mama Confession: O.M.G. I'm a mother.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." --Rajneesh

I'm not very patient with myself when it comes to learning new things. I remember crying the first few months I was a brand new teacher because teaching is oh so hard and I felt like a failure. I cried a lot when I started seminary because everything was new and strange and I felt inadequate and like I didn't belong. I felt like a failure.

And now, I am learning to be a mother. And, like the quote above that was shared with me by a friend reminds me, being a mother is absolutely new to me. And there have been multiple moments during the last 4 weeks that I have cried and felt like a failure.

I am a mother.

I am a mother.

This realization washes over me in waves multiple times a day. I guess other people know this already? That when you have a baby, you become a mother??? Yesterday I left him for the first extended length of time to go to the movies and during one of the previews I almost sat up in my seat and declared to the people around me, "OMG! I'm a mother!!!"

It's crazy. And unreal. And frustrating. And amazing. And exhausting.

I want so badly to be a good mother. To know exactly how to respond to my baby's needs. To meet each of his needs with tenderness and ease. To love being his mother at all times.

But the truth is, he's only 4 weeks old and I've already had mama moments I'm not proud of. Like when he was still sleeping in his cradle and started fussing every time I stopped rocking his cradle so I found a pair of old sweat pants and tied one leg to his cradle and held the other leg in bed with me so I could pull the pants and keep his cradle moving. And I should probably mention that I was so, so tired that I'm not really sure how hard I was rocking him but I think the side of the cradle hit the window sill a couple of times which means my baby was high flying in the dark, probably quiet only because he was frightened to death.

There have also been moments when, in the middle of the night, I have stumbled out of bed, unswaddled my baby, fed him, changed his diaper, changed his pajamas because he peed on them, reswaddled him, and then prayed to God that he wouldn't decide to poop while I was rocking him back to sleep. God, I know you're probably very busy right now. And I know there are wars going on and migrants who are dying on the border and people sleeping in the streets of Denver, but if you could just please take a little time to make sure my newborn son does not poop his diaper at this moment, I'd really appreciate it. I am oh. so. tired...

The good news is, I have had a fantastic support system. My mom, David's parents, Lauren, Matt, Emily, and my sister have been here and I know I wouldn't have survived this long without them. A care package recently arrived from my friend Carrie and was stuffed full with goodies to lift my spirits. My friend, Greta, put together a meal registry and our friends in Denver have been bringing us yummy food. David is an amazing dad and extends me so much grace. I am humbled by the outpouring of love and support and encouragement.

Here's the other piece of good news. I love my son. I am a ridiculously imperfect and sometimes crazy mama. But I love this little boy to pieces. And I think, maybe, he senses this.

The other night, I was rocking him to sleep and he had his head tucked up under my chin so that I could feel his tiny breath on my neck. I was singing him songs that my mama sang to me when I was little--songs that affirm how much I love him, how much God loves him, how special he is--and as I craned my neck a little to look at him and kiss his cheek, he smiled and sighed.

Yes, friends, I am a mother.