Reflections on Mother's Day

Yesterday was kind of a weird day for me.  It was my first as a mother, and that part of it was wonderful. The Texan put out a card in the baby's room, since he said he knew that would be the first place I would go in the morning, and La Principessa did her part by working on taking steps and generally being adorable. (Less adorable: how she managed to, uh, expel up the front of her diapers, necessitating a bath and general all-over bleaching of the clothes she had on.  I'm still not sure of the physics behind that.)

But it was also the first without my mom.  She died when I was four months pregnant and it breaks my heart that she never got to meet her first granddaughter.  At the end, her dementia was getting pretty bad, but one of the last really coherent conversations we had was when I told her I was pregnant, so she definitely knew and was thrilled. Later, even when her grasp on everything else was pretty loose, she still would remember to ask me how I was feeling and if I was listening to my doctor. 

Yet her knowing about the baby and getting to meet the baby are two different things.  When I was growing up, no accomplishment was complete until my mom knew about it.  I wish I could show her the baby - she would just adore her.  But I can't, and I never will be able to.  I just have to accept that. 

In the meantime, La Principessa has gotten to meet the rest of my family and our "urban family" of friends here in DC.  They have all been wonderfully supportive and we are lucky to have them. I keep reminding myself of that.