What I was meant to be...

I was meant to carry him in my body for 9 months. Giving him a place to grow and develop while wrapped in love. He was meant to fit perfectly inside me; close to my heart while he became the little human he is today.

I was meant to deliver him and then nourish him with this same body. Through me he flourished and for me it was the most amazing experience of bonding and purpose that I have ever felt.

I was meant to watch him while he eats, sleeps, plays, babbles, laughs, cries and everything else he will do in his life, because everything he does gives me the most intense pleasure and satisfaction.

I was meant to comfort and soothe. My shoulder was meant to cradle his little head as I rock him asleep and my hip was meant to support his growing self.

I was meant to lose sleep and gain gray hair as I worry and delight in his upbringing.

I was meant to care for him with every fiber of my being. The late nights and dirty diapers are of no concern because for him my love is unconditional and limitless. The selfish person I was does not exist where he is concerned, except for my selfish desire to spend as much time as possible with him.

I was meant to be tested and challenged. The experience of having a child will and has trumped all other experiences of my life and I revel in it. It is the hardest, most worrisome, anxiety-inducing experience yet I cannot image or even remember life before him. It is as if the love I have to offer to the world is infinite because of that little boy.

I was meant to be a mother.