I used to truly believe I had a fairly good understanding of what parenthood was truly like. After all, it’s something you hear those around you talking about. I’ve heard about the sleep deprivation, the guilty feelings; the panicked google searches. I’ve heard about the prideful moments, the sweet smiles; the powerful new love. I’ve heard the stories, the advice and the conversations. And yet…
It wasn’t until I went into labor after carrying my little one for 9 months that I understood both the pain and the pure wonderment of birth.
It wasn’t until I got to hold my little one that I understood the profound love a person can have for someone they just met.
It wasn’t until I heard that first cry that I understood the superpower of a gentle touch.
It wasn’t until the first night at home that I understood the silent unspoken terror felt that accompanies the joy of welcoming the newest family member home.
It wasn’t until my little one started to look at me that I understood how beautiful and new life must be for her.
It wasn’t until my little one wrapped their tiny hand around my finger that I understood how precious staying in that very position was.
It wasn’t until we were perfectly snuggled that I understood how unimportant all the chores around me were in comparison.
It wasn’t until my little one started hitting all the months countdowns that I understood just how fast time really is flying by.
I am only three months in with so much more ahead to experience in order to truly understand all the little things that make up parenthood, and there is nothing I look forward to more.
