Now that I’m back at work post-maternity-leave, well-meaning friends, family members, and colleagues ask me how it’s going, often with a look of sympathy in their eyes. I think some of them expect me to say I’m exhausted or I wish I could stay at home. Several have voiced their assumptions in the form of questions: It’s tough, isn’t it? Don’t you just want to cry when you get those texts with pictures of your little one?
Becoming a parent has given me many opportunities to reflect on my own childhood. As I interact with my baby, I imagine my own parents caring for me. I understand better than ever the sacrifices they made and the joys and worries they felt. So today, my first Mother’s Day as a mom, I pay homage to my own mom.
It’s been six weeks since my son was born. He’s gained more than 50% of his birth weight and has grown an inch in length. He’s beginning to outgrow some of his smallest clothes, and while I love watching him develop, I feel just a little sad packing away those tiny newborn-sized sleepers. He’s smiling more, which brings me so much joy, and I love it when we gaze at each other while I’m feeding him. He’s started to grasp things other than fingers, including occasionally my hair. He loves spending time on his tummy, especially on our chests, though he usually falls asleep during tummy time. He can lift his head and turn it from side to side (he’s been doing that for weeks now), and he can raise himself up on his forearms. I’m guessing it won’t be long until he starts crawling. He has my nose, cheeks, and ears; his dad’s eyes and smile; and both of our dimples.