The other day, my sister commented that I look so much more at ease with my son. I beamed at the comment because I have to say that in the last two months, I really feel like I’ve finally come into my own as a mother.
It’s something about hitting the 18 month mark for me. I love my son at this age. He’s interesting and inquisitive and learning a new word every couple of days. He is discovering water, puddles and how splashes move. He says thank you, puts his shoes away in the closet (along with mom and dad’s) and helps unload the dishwasher.
This kid is the coolest.
For the first time, I feel myself relaxing, enjoying and looking forward to being around him. Suddenly those nights and weekends just don’t feel like enough time. We run around, go down the stairs, point out buses and cars and laugh. Right now, I’m trying to teach him about colors. I don’t know if he is quite getting it, but we’re having a blast figuring it out.
Home feels quintessentially more like a haven than it’s ever felt before. Home is where my heart is. Though it always was that way to some extent, during postpartum depression, home was also fear, anxiety, doubt and exhaustion. Those aren’t great things to associate with home.
So if you’re still struggling, or maybe you’re not struggling through postpartum depression but you’re still ‘not quite into’ motherhood, fear not my friend. There’s no rule as to when you have to feel like you’ve truly come into motherhood. Maybe it happened right when the baby was born, perhaps it was after the first six months, or maybe it’s when they hit that sweet age of four. Just remember:
In the blink of an eye, everything can change.