There are a lot of firsts in life. Your first birthday, your first day of school, your first kiss. These firsts seem to slow down at some point, falling victim to routine and safety. Which is why I think this particular first caught me off guard.

We were having our weekly 605 office meeting and the topic of the May item guide came up. It was decided we would do a Mother’s Day theme.

The idea seemed to please everyone, and we continued with our meeting. Walking back to our desks, my coworker said, “Hey, it’s your first Mother’s Day. Congrats!” I smiled and stood there, convincing myself it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Except, it was. As much as I would love to play the cool, calm, and collected role, that isn’t me. Actually, I’m the exact opposite, and when I realized I would be celebrating Mother’s Day from a different perspective, I was anything but put together.

Thoughts of papier-mâché hearts and breakfast in bed came flooding back as I remembered the care I took when planning the perfect
celebration for my own mom. As a child, I took an immense amount of pride in the joy I brought on those Sunday mornings, something I had forgotten about until now.

Now, I was the one being celebrated. But how? This day was reserved for caregivers and matriarchs; powerful women that had earned the title of Mom. And while I indeed gave birth (that’s another story) and I have a daughter, I was left feeling undeserving of an entire day dedicated to me.



Fast forward to that night. I was nursing Sloan, and as her fingers played with my hair, I couldn’t help but notice the way the glow of her nightlight held the curve of her cheeks, or the curls that had fallen onto her forehead.

It was in this moment I realized something that I hope I never forget.

Our relationship as mother and daughter goes far beyond our actual kinship. Don’t get me wrong, I love knowing Sloan is the culmination of Reid and I put together; the best parts of each of us. However, that isn’t the only thing that makes her mine.

It’s the fact that I’m a different person because of her. I act differently. I think differently. I am different.

Gone are the days that my decisions lacked intention, and gone are the days that were spent waiting for what was next.

Mainly, gone are the days of not knowing what it’s like to be someone’s everything.

I always thought I would revel in the idea of waking up to a homemade card or balloons in the kitchen, and while I would absolutely love those, the idea of simply waking up to those bright baby blues is enough.

What I've Learned...

» Babies don’t always crawl before they walk. Instead of panicking, take their lead and avoid sharp corners.

» It’s easy to fall into the “only buy things for baby” trap. Remind yourself that holes are only cute in jeans, and it’s okay to treat yourself to new socks.

» Remember that babies and direct sunlight do not always mix. Before buying sunscreen in bulk, look for samples or smaller bottles to try out on your baby’s skin.

Maybe being “worthy” of Mother’s Day doesn’t mean you stuck to your birth plan or it isn’t based on how often you make cookies for teachers. Maybe it means you can sit and stare at your child for hours on end, marveling in their complete and utter sense of wonder. Maybe it means you and your baby can have a lip-bubble making contest until you’re both doubled over laughing.

Maybe feeling worthy of being a mom and being celebrated doesn’t mean feeling that way all of the time—and that’s okay.

This year will be my first-ever Mother’s Day as a mom, and I’m stoked. Not only do I get another day in the year that lends itself to an extra Starbucks run, but I get to spend it with the coolest baby I know, who also happens to be the reason I am who I am.

To the women who have given their hearts to their littles, to the women that are forever changed, and to the women that need a reminder of how much you matter, happy Mother’s Day.


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