But and Then

Not a minute ago, someone messaged me saying motherhood is harder than she imagined and that she’s in awe at how I’m doing it.

But…

I was also like her at the beginning.

I was constantly worried, tired, frustrated, upset, defeated, and fearful.

I had to keep my emotions in check because I would find myself almost always on the verge of tears. (There’s my hormones to thank for.)

I had questions on top of questions—asking if I’m doing it right or if I’m giving it my all.

Lack of sleep was a noun I know very well. 

And then…

It just gets better.

Truly, the mothers who were before me, as the mothers before them, were not lying when they said, “Just hang in there.”

I kept swimming, holding on to the promise that the nights will eventually become quiet.

Baby finally settled on her own routine.

I have a little time for myself now. I become confident day by day knowing I am giving my 200% at this beautiful thing called motherhood.

I smile and gaze at my baby because she’s the best thing that has EVER happened to me. 

And believe me, I’ll do it again a thousand times over. 

Last Night

Last night, amidst the unsettling quiet of the night, I found myself in tears. It hit me so hard, I was just deeply hurt. I couldn’t seem to console myself. The tears would just keep falling and I allowed them to be. It was very hard to hold  everything together. Every song that played  on the radio reminded me so much of my mother. It’s as if she were still alive, and I was looking forward to calling her when the sun rises. I got out of bed, lit one of the three candles that was no longer burning on her makeshift altar, and said a prayer. On and on and on, I just kept crying. In the past three months, I’ve never cried this much. The longing was so deep, so intense it’s almost palpable.

I always try to go about my day as happily as I could. I keep my mother’s memories behind me— like a bed always left untucked. And then the feelings way down inside surges and I am forced to deal with them. I guess I have to be comfortable with the thought that her loss will now be a part of me, that life will never be the same, and hopefully I'll be all right. I know she's close, but gone.