It's all true--every single cliche.

So, I got a message from a friend today. She was thanking me (us) for time spent with our little family yesterday. She told me that sometimes dreams come true. My response to that was that sometimes when they do, they are even better than you originally dreamed them.

All the cliches about becoming a parent are true. Over the years, I have rolled my eyes at all of them a million times. The oh so over said "it's different when it's your own child." The completely trite "being a mom is unlike anything else you will ever do." The wistfully declared "being a parent is the greatest love you will ever know." All of them, and so many more--completely true. Amazing how quickly you learn this. It's only been eight days.

I think one of the results of learning that all the cliches are true is finally understanding why everyone has words of wisdom, advice, guidance and a cliche or two to share with you at every step along the way of becoming a parent. One of the other very commonly spoken phrases I heard as I was finding myself in labor at the end of last week was "it's different for everyone." At the time, I was very annoyed with that one. I just wanted to know if what I thought was happening really was. Needless to say, it was.

Our brand new family.

I spent about twenty-four hours in non-progressive labor. I wanted Willow out, but she couldn't make it without help. Ultimately, I landed in an operating room with my husband at by my side. After an impossibly fast minute--maybe two--our Willow made her entrance into the world screaming "la" at the top of her lungs. Her daddy and I were overcome with joy. That sound was like church bells. And even though we aren't subscribers, I think we were both thankful to know so quickly that she was healthy.

It was hard to be separated from the two of them as they whisked me off to recovery for nearly an hour, but Jeph made a point to catch up with the bed on which I was wheeled away to let me know everything was okay with our girl.

I've made it no secret here that it was a long and bumpy road to getting Willow here. We lost a pregnancy almost two years ago. I had approached becoming a mom in a rather nonchalant and only semi-committed mind-set up to that point. It was all the horrible moments associated with that loss that helped me understand that if you wanted to be a mom, you had to really mean it. Maybe that's why some higher power decided we weren't ready. That lesson took me down a path of crazy that most of my friends know all to well and luckily a few have forgiven me for. It was hard to wait for a chance to try again. It was just as hard to go each month trying, wishing, failing and recovering. And of course, as a dear friend of mine who suffers from fertility issues found, when you want most in the world to be pregnant, everyone else around you is. It's not fair to be envious, but when your heart is broken, seemingly beyond repair, it's easy to slip into being human, and at times, even a little sub-human.

As much as I wanted our baby, pregnancy was not any fun for me. I was unable to eat much throughout much of the time. I dropped weight--which is a good thing. I was unhealthily heavy before my pregnancy. But it was still a pretty miserable time. Our lives turned upside down with a massive career change for my husband and a move for our family. All of the downs and the little steps toward righting things brought the two of us much closer together than we ever had been. At times, especially toward the end of my pregnancy, I spent days in sorrowful anticipation that our time as a couple was drawing to a close. What if this massive change took away something from that special relationship we had? What if, deep down, I was still too selfish to understand this massive gift? I was more than a little bit frightened.

Last Sunday night, we found ourselves in a hospital room with a one-day old who was so upset that we were at our wits' end. What if we couldn't get her to calm down? And this was only night two. As I paced with her in my arms like a zombie, I too, started to cry. It's true--I was exhausted. I was in terrible pain and just putting one foot in front of the other was a struggle. I wanted to sleep so badly. But in the midst of this, only one thought popped into my head: I would do anything to be able to give this little girl whatever it was she needed to know that she was safe, loved, and wanted. I would do anything to make whatever was upsetting her so go away. Nothing else mattered at all.

It was almost like the entire universe had doors with giant, heavy locks on them until that moment. Somehow that thought was all it took to open them and I understood everything about everything.

Becoming a parent really is the greatest love that you will ever know, because it erases every pain, every struggle, every selfish thought you've ever had from existence. No path is the same--it really is different for everyone. And as I have found myself already doing things I thought I could never do for her, I understand that it is different when it's your child.

All the cliches are true. Everything that every mom ever says is true--ten times over.

Dreams do come true, and sometimes they really are even better than you ever dreamed they would be. 

Sweetest Thing--U2

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