She calls me Mama

I finally had that moment that every new mother dreams about from the second she sees the two pink lines on the First Response! It took 16 1/2 months, but it happened. It hasn’t happened again, but IT HAPPENED!

She called ME “mama!”

I know, I know…in my motherly sense of pride I have claimed that “mama” was, if not THE first word, it was one of them. And, I suppose that is true. Mama the ball, mama the dog, MAMA the food that she wants more of, mama the Dada, mama the syllables she is screaming at the top of her lungs as she protests nap time….All these “mama’s” counted to me. They counted because I am with her for 24 of 24 hours in a day. They counted because I am the one that continually does the diaper laundry and comes up with creative ways to make raisins, orange slices and sunflower butter into lunch. I am the mama who annoys myself with “no-no’s” and “don’t touch that’s” and I am the mama who is always searching for new phrases to replace them. I am the mama who cuddles her through teething fevers and I am the mama who entertains her with silly dances when we hit the 4 pm wall. I am the mama who took her to doctor’s appointments and had to hold her down while the lab coat man drew her blood for the ump-teenth time. I am the mama who held back my tears as she looked at me searching for why I would betray her. I am the mama who had to tell those big, pleading blue eyes “no, baby, I can’t nurse you” when we were prepping her for two days before her colonoscopy. And I am the mama who hugged her daddy, sobbing, as we waited for our nightmare to be over. I am also the mama who was waiting on the other side for her with a big smile and a warm embrace. I am the mama who got right back to the routine of things as if none of it had ever happened. This mama wipes snotty noses, poopy hineys and sticky high chairs about a 100 times a day. I am the mama who has scoured books, websites and wiser mama’s opinions for answers to sleep issues, feeding issues and milestone issues. I am the mama who has cried herself to sleep thinking I was doing a horrible job and I am the mama who, on occasion HAS been doing a horrible job. I am also the mama who does a great job! I sing songs and read books and create imaginary mermaid pools in the backyard.

I, like every mama before me, do these things because it is my job. I love it and I hate it. I am the master of it and I am a total apprentice, all depending on the day. I play, discipline, laugh and bite my tongue with absolute frustration every day. And every night, when she has been in bed all of ten minutes, I miss her. This is because I am her mama.

And today, as if affirming finally that she recognizes who I am to her, my tiny girl called me by name. Of course, in pure Chuckles style, it wasn’t TO me, but rather to a photo of 20-something me. I find it so ironic that the photo of the girl she recognizes as “Mama” didn’t even WANT kids, let alone for anyone to call her “mama.” Now, here I stand today squealing with joy and wiping tears from my eyes that my kid KNOWS me!

So, I guess today I get to join the ranks of all the other crayon-drawing, dinner-cooking, block-building mama’s who are so blessed to be called by name. I like it!


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