A Tiny Confession

I've been wondering lately if I'm coming off a little too strong on the mommy front when it comes to my friends. And I'm not talking about acting too much like a mom in front of them, because that is now a part of me I will never be able to let go of, never be able to turn off, a title I will never regret bearing. However, I think I might frighten some of my friends when, in their company, I encourage them to have a baby. By no means do I think all my friends should be having babies right now, nor do I feel alone in the world of motherhood. And I can't help but think if my encouragement for others to become parents merely plants the idea in their heads that I'm so lonely being the first mom in our group of friends that I'm desperate to bring others down with me.

That notion couldn't be further from the truth.

I want my friends to become parents so they can experience the inexplicable joy that comes along with being a parent. For six years, I thought the only person who really needed me was Jimmy. Now that I have a son, I realize there truly is no one in the world who needs me more than him. Looking back, I can even see that Jimmy didn't really even need me all those years - he could have accomplished all he has without me by his side. That's not to say he doesn't love me or that I love him any less now that we have a son, it's just there is a different kind of love in our house now.

When baby Jimmy wakes up from a nap, he doesn't cry. He lays in his crib, eyes closed, and just murmurs to himself. As he gets more agitated over time, he gets more audible, but it really takes us to turn a deaf ear to him for quite some time to get him in full out tears. (This rarely ever occurs.) No matter where I am in the house, I can hear his little grunts and I rush to his room, exited to see those little blue eyes slowly open and readjust to the big world surrounding him. As I look down at him, he looks up at me. It takes him less than 10 seconds to realize the calming touch on his tummy is mine and he immediately smiles. And that smile, oh man, that smile. I can't even put it to words. There's something about those still sleepy eyes and cheeks with indentions from the sheets that melts my heart. The puddle of drool beside him makes me laugh and then it produces a little laugh from him that makes me feel like there's nothing in this world except him and me, in that moment. It's as if God sent me a little angel to brighten every day. I get agitated at times, but never at him. Only because I feel I'm inadequate as a mother, that I've done something wrong. The fact that he rolls over at least five times before finding a comfy place to rest his head for sleep doesn't make me mad, it makes me grateful for a child who is progressing so well. I'm not losing any sleep over his rolls. I'm not missing anything monumental in life. My sole job is to roll him back over and gently tell him play time is over. I'm there to wipe his tears when he cries. I'm the one who calms his frazzled nerves or embraces him when he's frightened. Nothing else matters. Every second I get with him I thank my God above for loving us even more than I love my son. I can't fathom a love like that when my heart explodes with so much compassion and love for my little man, but I know it to be true. The cross is the only proof I will ever need.

So, I confess. I do want my friends to join me in the circle of parenthood. But not because I want them to be constantly dressed in spit-up and drool with hair mangled from tiny, sticky fingers that constantly grab at it all day. I want them to experience this kind of love. I feel so selfish understanding it alone. There are so many joys that come along with being a mom that I want the entire universe to feel what I feel daily. I promise, I'm not trying to drag anyone down or scare anyone away. I'm just so excited for their time to come, and I fully understand everyone's moment is at a different time. But when it comes, I'll be there with open arms to welcome them in.