Sure, I was a bit melodramatic back then. I am not too proud to admit my faults and poke fun at myself. I wanted so much to be a mother by Mother's Day (my due date was six days before), but the holiday came around and I still found my arms empty. Caleb came two days later, the best present a mother could ever receive. He was my present, plain and simple, even if "late".
Now, one year later, I wish I could say to the Courtney of one year ago, "Don't sweat it. It's not a big deal." Mother's Day is just one day, but every day is a mother's day, of sorts. Presents come all the time. Perhaps they aren't tied up with ribbons and bows, but every time Caleb crawls over to me and hangs onto my leg, or laughs at my silly faces, he gives me a present. A far better present than anything money can buy.
My only defense that I have for the Courtney of one year ago is this: an overly pregnant lady just simply must be forgiven. She's dreading labor, and the more she waits, the scarier it seems; she's huge and can barely get any sleep, let alone tie her shoes; she longs to hold her little one, but still must settle for feeling his kicks and squirms. She also worries about him, because her amniotic fluid is diminishing.
This year, I didn't have any of those worries, and that alone made the day a delight. My parents were here to spend the day with me, my husband spoiled me, and I have Caleb, whom I dressed in his "Mommy's Big Guy" shirt. I am blessed beyond what I deserve.
Brian bought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers, a gift certificate for a massage at a very nice spa, and he gave me a card with words he wrote from Caleb's perspective.
I am indeed blessed. There's nothing in the world I would rather do. I wouldn't trade my life for anything. You can keep your trip around the world, rewarding career, or lots of money. I don't need to make a name for myself or even have a fantastic social life. I love being a mom. It is the hardest job I've ever done, but I would be loathe to part with it, even in spite of the (very) early morning wake up calls, the endless diapers, the difficulty in getting anything accomplished because of chasing a very active toddler around all day. I love my son, and I love being his mother.
I am content.
