What a blessed life I have. Rocking my 23 month old for the last time because in 25 hours he will be a 2 year old (although I'm strongly considering saying "24 month old"). I'm not entirely sure what I did or why I did it for those 29 years leading up to his birth. These last 2 have been the most purposeful, grounded, present, and happiest I've known.
Before I became a mother I promised myself and anyone who inquired that I wouldn't "lose myself" to parenthood. I vowed I would remain confident in who I was and wouldn't let a child alter my existence in the drastic ways I had seen other women allow themselves to be altered. What a laugh. To think that I could stop this child from transforming my core, my being, is naive at best. The way in which I enter the world is as a mother now. This identity - this truth - informs everything I do. And what a blessed life it is.
Happy Birthday, Sprout. Thank you for making me your mother.