The calling of a lifetime
Being Daphne’s mom is so special. And I’ll be forever grateful she was meant to be mine, and I was meant to be hers.
I never knew how much I was meant to be a mom.
If you would have asked me even just a year and a half ago what I thought about being a mom, I would have had a completely different answer than the perspective I presently have.
I grew up around lots of babies and toddlers, and always loved them. As the first (and in-turn oldest) grandkid on both sides of my family, I remember always holding a little cousin or sibling. Then in 2013 my parents became a licensed foster home, and we had so many sweet babies enter our home and hearts.
But nothing could have prepared me for what it meant to BECOME a mom. To create a life with my own body and then nurture that new little human.
Throughout my pregnancy there was this slow, gradual sense of identity that was becoming more clear. So much in my life leading up to Daphne left me constantly wondering what was next. But motherhood seemed to make sense.
Seeing those two pink lines on Valentine’s Day 2024, my entire sense of self began to transform.
The anxiety of beginning a pregnancy journey full of unknowns and needing to learn to trust my body. The immediate hopes and dreams of the baby I could be holding in nine months. The excitement of our family growing. The realization that now it really wasn’t just about me and Connor. It all just rushed through my mind at a million miles an hour.
My pregnancy experience wasn’t one to be romanticized. I had morning sickness and nausea for the first 21 weeks, then enjoyed weeks 22 through 24 before my entire body began to hurt and I day-by-day felt more and more cumbersome. Yet, feeling (and eventually seeing) our daughter wiggle around my belly and try out for American Ninja Warrior was such a sacred thing.
Watching my body change felt miraculous. I was in awe over what my body could do to allow my daughter to grow. How it kept her safe, warm, fed. She had all she needed. And I realized she was giving me so much more than I could have imagined. Pregnancy might not have been sunshine and butterflies, but carrying her every day was a gift. A gift I’m reminded of every day when I see the sweet marks her existence has left on my stomach – her first home.
With each passing day, I imagined what life would be like once Daphne arrived. Every item put on our baby registry was with her in mind. Every detail of her nursery was with the thought of creating a space she would grow up in. Every piece of clothing was picked just for her.
I remember the day we moved bedrooms.
We had been sleeping in the smaller of our three bedrooms, but decided to move to the larger room in anticipation of bringing our baby home. We cleaned the room, moved our mattress, moved our dressers (don’t worry, Connor did all the heavy lifting) and began intentionally setting up the room with Daphne in mind. We set up her bassinet. And a little diaper station in a rolling, three-tiered cart.
Resting on our bed after everything was set, I remember feeling her wriggle around and kick as the sun shone in that gentle, summer late-afternoon light. And I just thought about how in a couple short months she would be sleeping in that bassinet next to me.
And she did.
Those last few weeks of pregnancy were long. But not for the reasons I anticipated. Sure, I was miserably uncomfortable being in the third trimester through the heat of summer, but those last few weeks brought with them such a longing.
A longing to just hold her. To finally see those little feet that had so consistently kicked me in the ribs. To hold her tiny hand. To touch her sweet head and feel her soft skin. To have her earthside.
It was a feeling I couldn’t put words to. It almost felt like desperation; I needed her so badly.
And I did.
I’ve said before that I knew I wanted a baby but I never knew how much I wanted to be a mom. How so much of myself would finally make sense. And it’s been confusing for me in a beautiful way. Never in a million years could I have imagined that I would find so much identity in motherhood.
That longing to hold Daphne is back. And it’s so much deeper than before holding her for the first time. The desperation I feel, how I so badly need her, is a pain that’s indescribable. I miss her smile, I miss her scratchy hands while she nursed, I miss running my fingers through her hair, I miss kissing her nose and her toes, I miss looking in her eyes. I miss her.
Daphne making me a mom was the greatest gift she could have ever given me. She taught me so much about myself, and she continues to. She showed me what true, unconditional love is. What trust is. Sincerity.
Being Daphne’s mom is so special. And I’ll be forever grateful she was meant to be mine, and I was meant to be hers.