Growing up, I wasn't sure how much I wanted to be a parent. I was pretty sure that I wanted kids, at some point. But I had big plans, and wanted to do so much, that initially any thoughts of being a mother were not a priority.
Even after Hubster and I decided to start our family, and I was pregnant with Bug, I had my own views on motherhood. Yes, I wanted to be a mom. But I wasn't going to let it get in my way, slow me down, or hinder me in anyway.
Those were my initial thoughts on being a mom...
Until 4:54 am, on a early summer morning nearly 8 years ago.
Holding my newborn son tight, tears running down my face, I felt every tie I had to anything else loosen. Every pull in other directions weaken. All my priorities, hopes, future plans... everything fell to pieces and reformed into the face of my son.
That pull only strengthened on a late summer afternoon 4 years later, when Monkey was born.
The love I have for these two boys surprises me nearly every day. Everything I do, it's really for them. All my hopes and plans are no longer for me, but for them.
I'm not the perfect parent, not by any means. I scold, yell, lose patience more than I should. I'm gone more than I want.
If I really think about it, it wasn't that my thoughts and feelings about motherhood changed. It was me. I changed when these children entered my life.
The last eight years have changed me. They have challenged me, frustrated me, exhausted me, and delighted me. They have been full of fatigue, long nights, temper tantrums, mile stones, bedtime stories, birthdays, and joy.
I'm grateful each day.