"You'll never sleep again." (True.)
"You'll never fit into your pre-baby clothes again." (Not true.)
"Your life will never be the same." (So, so true.)
But those weren't things I needed to be told. I all ready knew them. Expected them. In so many ways, I eagerly anticipated them.
No one told me the big things. The most important things.
No one told me that as I rocked my sleepless, crying babe in the middle of the night, I'd sob right along with her. Not because I was sleep-deprived or depressed; but because I was so in love with her. So in love that at times it very much felt like my heart could burst open. And that love was so daunting because I'd never loved another human quite like that.
No one told me how I'd get to be a kid again with them. How I'd experience a beautiful and wonderful childhood through the eyes of my children. And how such an experience could be so overwhelming sometimes I'd have to hold my breath and simply watch as it played out in front of me; because sometimes experiencing is far too intense.
No one told me that while my babe sobbed as they stitched up his face, I would feel a pain more severe than even the worst of my child birthing experiences had to offer. That that pain would be permanently burned into my heart; unable to forget it quite like I could other sorts of physical pain.
No one told me that when a kid on the playground told my sweet girl her "hair was stupid" and ran away from her, I'd fantasize about him falling from the monkey bars and splitting his face open and not feel even a little awful for such horrid feelings toward a child.
No one told me that not only would their firsts be beautiful experiences, but also that their seconds, and thirds, and 934,789,347,983,874ths would be wondrous; that I would find his one millionth smile just as enchanting as his first; that her 5 year old giggle, though grown and changed, would still be the same blissful music to my ears that her newborn giggle was.
No one told me that I would spend hours and hours reading and researching into the wee hours of the night; hoping and begging that maybe, just maybe, I could get something right. That if I read enough and armed myself with enough resources, then maybe against all odds they wouldn't come out at the other end damaged. And that'd I'd doubt every single decision every single day; because how can I know until it's all said and done?
No one told me how proud I would feel when I made a simple request and my child looked me square in the eyes and said, "No, Momma." I had no idea I could feel so much pride for a tiny person with a strong voice and convictions who knew how to stand their ground, even if it made some days of parenting so much harder.
No one told me how hard I'd fight to find answers and to find a way to help him be healthy when they said my sweet boy was sick. I had no idea how scared I could be for the future of one of the sweetest creatures I've ever know; or how much relief I could feel when I knew that finally, somehow, we'd managed to pull him through something that seemed much too similar to a nightmare.
No one told me how on the thankfully not so frequent occasions that they fought, it would literally hurt my heart and make me want to clobber them at the same time. And how watching them make up on their own terms and be so lovey to eachother would be better than an ice pack for my heart.
No one told me that a sassy 5 year old girl could cause more emotional turmoil and sleepness nights than writing my thesis while also pregnant and taking on a 21 credit course load in college ever could.
No one told me how never meeting the baby that I saw two tiny pink lines for would break me in a way I never expected, and also make me that much stronger and powerful and determined to love the two babes I have in arms limitlessly.
No one told me how much love there would me. How much laughter. How many adventures we would have in just an ordinary day.
No one told me how healing it would be just being their mom.
Oh, the things no one told me.
I can't even fathom what else I don't know yet. What else is to come. How many tears will be shed. How many belly-laughs I will hear. How many sloppy kissies I will receive and how many more outfits will be ruined by dirt and blood.
No one told me how awesome it would be.
But it is.
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