I was a cynic.

I truly believed that people who had children were really miserable on the inside. I believed that moms would talk about their babies, oogling over baby products, making crafts after storytime because they were delusional. They needed to tell themselves that they loved motherhood because they were committed to loving and raising a child for 18-24 years (or longer, if they are still living in the basement, mooching off mom and dad into their 30’s). Why not make the best of it? I was a jaded cynic.

Then it happened to me.

March 2009 marks the end of my cynicism. Here I was, hugely pregnant, wanting nothing more than my sciatic pain to go away and this baby to pop out. And after 2 days of contractions, 11 hours in the hospital and a vacuum extraction, baby J was born. He was beautiful. 7 pounds, 5 ounces of baby goodness. Each month, I fall more in love with this little human being. I want to talk about him all the time. I want to hold him, tickle him, hear his cute little squeal. I want him to have the best I can give him. I want to make crafts with him after storytime.

I am one of them. (But I still make sarcastic jokes, will never buy from Land’s End and hate to clean and bake.)

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 18th, 2009 at 4:31 pm and is filed under Motherhood. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.