HH woke up at 5:30 a.m. on Mother's Day, but I didn't care.
I was tired as all get-out, but I didn't care.
I hadn't had my coffee yet, but I didn't care.
I looked down at her bright, smiling face and smiled right back at her. I was looking at my daughter and she was looking at her mother.
It was surreal. Like in a pinch me is this real? kind of way.
I floated above my body and hovered over the room, staring down at this woman who looked a lot like me making obnoxious baby talk sounds and a beautiful baby girl grinning at her from ear to ear.
Was that woman me? Was that baby really mine?
When I nursed her for the first time that day, I felt it again.
When I opened my Mother's Day card and gift from HH, I felt it again.
When I went to the Mother's Day brunch at my BFF's house, I felt it again.
When people saw me pushing a stroller down on our morning walk and said, Happy Mother's Day, I felt it again.
That feeling that I may never get used to this motherhood thing- in a good way.