motherhood.

the days are counted until he's going to walk. David is already climbing, crawling, shuffleing until his little legs support his body weight.
He climbs with passion over my body until he reaches my face, a small amount of skin anywhere to give me a sweet slobbery kiss. In that moment I feel so loved.
the way he nuzzles his face in my neck right before he is asleep. How his drowsy little self of love and sleep melts him into my body. I smell the baby smell, sweet and innocent.
I surely feel my tiny baby is fading, replaced by a giggly, mobile, sometimes naughty toddler.
the moments when he wakes up during the night, calling me. I hear him saying "mama, mamamama!" and I waited for this sound all my life. I pick myself up to go and get him to cuddle him back to sleep and he awaits me with the most wonderful smile on his lips. I melt into a puddle of love.
Even while being sleep deprived or maybe because of it, my heart bursts with love for this tiny human my body was able to make.

the way he pulls himself up on my legs while I fix us lunch, a warm meal for a change (which he is totally not going to eat anyway), and cries. I pick him up, hurrying to shush him before I lose it too.
Sometimes when he cries 1+ hour right before bedtime I have fantasies of leaving. Of just going straight out of the door, having a good nights sleep and returning the next day. I do not feel guilty about that, because I know, I wouldn't do it anyway. No matter how hard it might become.
I secretly cry in my double bed with no one to share, because motherhood is and will always be overwhelmingly beautiful.

My house often looks like one big mess. I feel like I don't have it all together.
That getting a shower somedays is an accomplishment with a demanding infant always wanting to be held.
I get to be the phone plug security, baby signs teacher, a meal-sharer and soothing night owl.
On some days I look out for my old self, like I look out for a long lost friend. I see her in a distance but can't quite reach her, because motherhood changed me. I am not the same, yet I am grateful and sad. ambivalent some may say. Some days I am not knowing how I do it and on others when my floors are clean, laundry is put away and the baby is happily sleeping in his own bed I do know that one day I will get the hang of it.

Oh motherhood, you beautifully ugly thing, you.