Before Teddy was born I had very few expectations for the sort of mother I’d become. I was never really the clucky type, always a little awkward around the children of others and quick to retreat at an offer to hold a newborn for fear of doing it wrong.
But I so desperately wanted a baby to call my own – to unleash some semblance of maternal instinct (surely I had something to work off?) and give motherhood my best shot.
I was excited. I knew that it would be an adventure. That with every hiccup would come a life lesson. If I came up short, I’d do my utmost to get better.
I lacked the self-confidence of some expectant mums. There was no plan. I made no pledges to be a calm/strict/eco mum. I was just going to be me (ideally the good version – the one that stressed less often).
Mr R and I took a punt in deciding the best way to prepare was to not prepare at all – no books, no secret Mumsnet scrolling. Looking at it from the other side now, it was the perfect approach for us to take. Because it’s impossible to draw up a blueprint of the type of parents we’ll be until we’re knee-deep in the moment. Nothing compares.
The first time I saw Teddy’s face, it was as if his image had been locked in my mind all along. He looked so familiar. I vividly remember lifting him up out of the water to cradle him in my arms and feeling so at ease with him. So complete. Our missing piece was here. And I realised then that I became a mother long before his birth – that instinct I feared was lacking had been there since the moment I found out I was pregnant. Because since that day I had never been alone – there had been another life to put first, to love and nurture. And that is all being a mum requires.
Our life before parenthood is becoming an ever distant memory (I say this with a smile not a grimace – we were ready for change). There have been more tears and tantrums than there once were, a few heated tete-a-tetes… We’ve been tested beyond measure but have loved unconditionally. Perspectives have fallen into focus, sleep continues to elude us and what was already a happy family unit feels stronger than ever.
Next month, our fluffy-haired bundle turns one. The baby years are short, tearing by at breakneck speed. But with every last time comes a first to celebrate (our final breastfeed was marched out with Teddy’s first proper assisted steps). Still, I’ve had a few weepy moments this week, finally getting around to packing away his newborn clothes, catching my breath at how much he’s grown – how we’ve managed to raise such a happy, vibrant child (against all odds…?). Each day I look at him I think I can’t possibly love him any more, knowing that tomorrow I somehow will.
Motherhood is intense, testing and utterly spellbinding, and it has taught me more about my own self than I ever could have imagined. It’s a gift for which I will forever be grateful.
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