For the two and a half years that I had an only child I KNEW I was a good mom.
I didn’t struggle through navigating through new motherhood with uncertainty or heeding unsolicited advice. My child’s life was on the line and his health and development were my focus and my driving force.
Not only was I certain that I was a good mom, but people were constantly telling me that I was. They didn’t know how I did it. They cheered me on. I felt confident in my parenting from day one right on through his toddler years.
Henry could be across the room and if I said, “Stop!” He would stop in his tracks. Henry operates on fear. He is cautious, creative and weary.
He thinks everything is funny. He operates on joy. He revels in pushing boundaries and exploring without hesitation.
If I say “Stop!”, “No!” or “Don’t” it is without a doubt that he will grin, possibly laugh, and continue to do what he was going to do anyway... with more speed.
As a baby he never f@&#ing slept. It was absolute torture and I felt like a fish out of water. I was struggling through sleep deprivation and was constantly being handed advice I didn’t want or suggestions that weren’t helpful. I just wanted sleep.
I lost patience.
I’m not the same mom to two that I was to one.
The transition happened so slowly that I didn’t even notice it. I no longer feel like a “good mom” but I know the kind of mother I want to be.