So God Made a Mother

Eighteen years ago, I held my first baby and saw a glimpse. One little flash of every moment to come.

Pudgy baby legs. Toddler squeals echoing in a bubbly bath. Funny made-up words I hoped might never be corrected. The adorable space from missing top teeth followed by giant chiclets in their place. Little legs pumping a bike. His freckled nose. Happy Birthday songs and holidays. Wiry arms encircling my waist. A cracking voice and Accutane prescriptions and laughing SO HARD together on that jerky first drive. Basketball games and prom night and packing him up for college and one last lean-up-to-rest-my-head-his-tall-shoulder hug.

That first day of motherhood, I couldn’t help wondering, How quickly will I get from this moment to that moment? And what will become of my heart once I swing to the other side?

Now my baby is 18. It really did go by in a flash.

Yet, I will always be his mom. I will never stop wanting the best for him. I will never stop worrying and praying for him, hoping to be the soft place for him to land. I will never stop cheering from the sidelines. I will never stop feeling proud of the kind, compassionate person he is becoming. I will never stop watching and soaking him in. I will never stop loving. And I will never stop being his mom.

For this is the beautiful, bittersweet ache of motherhood—every day we hold on and we let go. And our hearts simply grow. They stretch and break and repair and change and grow and grow and grow.

It was eighteen years ago...

God made me a mother.