Right now, I am standing on a precipice. On this side, I am who I am right now. Ryan’s wife. A soon-to-be-Mom. I spend Monday through Friday working as an Editor, work out three times a week and watch a lot of television when I get home, though I make time for cooking and cleaning too. I call my Mother once or twice a week and text my Dad and sisters sporadically. On the weekends, I run errands with my husband and do something for fun.
But there is another cliff across the way that I can see, and I am someone else entirely. I’m a Mom, and I am holding my daughter in my arms. She needs me for absolutely everything, and we have this inexplicable bond that trumps everything else in the world.
Between who I am now, and who I will be in a few weeks, there is this canyon. And there is so much wrapped up in that darkness. It transforms me from the person I am today to the person I will be for the rest of my life.
The thing is, I will never really experience slowly what is down in that darkness. There is no long journey from one side to the other, no in between. Rather, one minute I am my current self, and then, when Charlotte is in my arms, I become that other self.
Granted, I will still be Ryan’s wife. I will probably call my Mother even more. The texts between myself and my Dad and my sisters will be the same. I’ll be watching TV at 3 a.m. instead of at 7 p.m. and fun will be filtered through whatever makes my daughter happy.
But the feelings and the perspective. It all changes — it all begins revolving around this one person and the entity of our budding family. And it all happens in, literally, seconds.
So many other mothers have tried to put this into words for me for the past eight months: amazing, life-changing, the best thing ever, miraculous. You can’t put into words what happens when your baby is placed in your arms, so essentially, I have no idea what I’m looking forward to.
I just know that I can’t wait to be on the other side.