Moms I Don't Know

There were a lot of things I didn't know about newborns.  Like that they eat every two hours.  Or that their umbilical cord stump takes approximately six decades to fall off.
There were  also a lot of things I didn't know about toddlers.  Like how they possess the strength of 20 grown men when you are trying to put them into a car seat they don't want to be in.  Or that WW3 will probably be started over the chicken nuggets you made for dinner (he wanted rice--didn't you know?).

However, I think the most shocking thing I didn't know is how every cell in your body changes when you have children.  Maybe people say that and you hear it, but the level of understanding is incomprehensible.

Like, how I will never read a news story and not think, "What if that had been my kid?"  How I would recall every mean thing I've ever said to anyone and think about how I had no idea that while I was being a jerk, his mom was worrying endlessly about her baby.  How I could read stories about moms lifting cars or thwarting kidnappers or fighting off wild animals without hesitation and know that I'd do the same.  That I'd carve out whole parts of my day to pray for moms I don't know.  That I'd see a mom cry for her baby (which is very frequent in the mom community!) and instantly know.  Just know.  In a way that other people wouldn't know.  That the minute my phone buzzes with an Amber Alert, my first thought is always of the mom.  How politics mean more because it's not about me--it's really, truly about the world I want for my kid.

I didn't know motherhood would be so emotionally taxing.  I didn't realize the weight of the worry would feel like cinderblocks on my shoulders.  I just didn't know.

So at night, when I hold my son, I pay special attention to his head on my shoulder, his chest on my collar, his legs wrapped around my waist, and his fingers twirling my hair.  I memorize how he feels in my arms and whisper that I love him, I love him, I love him, and kiss soft cheeks.  And I unload the weight with prayers for moms I don't know.