I was born a mother. Not born to be a mother, but truly, born a mother. As a little girl, I was borderline obsessed with babies. I could not get enough of them. Any chance I got to hold a baby was the opportunity of a lifetime that left me feeling on cloud nine for weeks. I even attended to my baby dolls with more attention than most children; checking their milk on my wrists, making sure they were never overheated, always burping them. I loved babies, often forgetting that I myself, was still considered one.
Then the day came at 28 years old when I finally found out I was going to be a mom. It was the happiest day of my life. Finally, I would become a mother to my own child.
hen my daughter was born, the second the doctor held her out for me to see, I broke down in tears and thought, “I’m all yours,” forgetting that I sort of belonged to someone else already … my husband.
My daughter is now 2 years old. She is my life. My light. My love. My everything. And I’m hers. I have grown into the mother I was always supposed to be. But along the way, I became more of a mother and less of a wife.
I don’t think I was technically ever to supposed to be a wife.
Even into my early 20s, I never saw myself getting married. It just didn’t seem to be a good fit for me. I had the wonderful example of my parents' marriage to look at, they themselves being happily married for over 40 years, but for me, marriage never seemed that appealing.
But as with life, your plans change and I met my future husband, deciding that for him, I would make the exception and become a wife … the wife that I never thought I wanted to be. Being a mother was always part of my plan, but a wife, not so much.
This past year in lockdown in Italy, where my family and I live, has brought challenges that no couple should have to face — whether they’re together two months, five years (as my husband and I are), or 20 years.
Date nights or romantic hand-holding walks have also become a thing of the past, due mostly in part to the pandemic. But I believe that if my husband and I have made it this far, we can make it for the long haul.
This time has made it more clear to me that my daughter is more of a priority than my husband is. Now more than even my daughter needs me. My husband always jokes about how I have forgotten about him or how I love our daughter more than I love him … and to be honest, he is sort of right.
My daughter is my flesh and blood.
She grew inside of me for nine months, when every kick was my own. When she falls asleep in bed with us, her body arched towards mine, her hands holding my cheeks, her face so close to mine that I can hear every sweet breath, there is just no love like that of mother and child. A child depends on her mother in a way that no other relationship can understand. There are things we feel and do for our child that we would do for no one else. The love a mother has for her child is other worldly, that I honestly don’t think any man can quite understand.
I love my husband to the moon and back. He is my one and only. I often remind him of the fact that I didn’t want to get married, but I made the exception once I realized we were meant to be together.
I think I’m still learning to be a wife, whereas I have always been a mother. Yes, of course my daughter needs more attention than my husband. She’s 2 years old! She needs me to clean her, change her, feed her, teach her, keep her safe, she relies on me for everything. My husband relies on me for other needs that are not as obvious. A good mother naturally has maternal instincts, but what about wife instincts? If they exist, I think I’m still learning to follow them. Either way, need is need. My daughter needs me…
But so does my husband. And I think I need to be better about remembering that.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good, loving and supportive wife.
I love my husband and make sure we start every day with a big kiss. I keep the house clean. I cook. I work. I love to dote on my husband, making him his favorite comfort meals on Sunday and preparing his office space for his arrival home from work. I’ve even gotten in the habit of leaving little random notes on his computer to perk up his day and remind him that I’m always here.
I’m a good wife.
But I’m a great mom.
I have no doubt that with time I will become a better wife … perhaps even a great one.
Source: cafemom.com
