I was anxious the entire time I was pregnant. The pregnancy was planned and everything was sailing along smoothly. The problem was that I didn't really consider myself a baby person. I could count the number of babies I had ever held on one hand. I didn't know the first thing about formula or diapers, but I had convinced myself that I wanted to be a mother. A little nagging feeling in my gut told me that I needed a baby, and my heart was convinced that I would be a good mother. Besides, how much work could one little baby be, right?

I distinctly remember the moment I knew I would be a good mother. My son had been home for nearly two months and never slept for more than two hours between feedings. My poor sleep-deprived body and mind simultaneously gave out on me during a 3 a.m. feeding and I slumped over on the bed, crying into my pillow as I fed my son. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and wanted my own mommy. In the middle of my breakdown, I glanced down at that perfect little face, those long eyelashes and chubby pink cheeks. He didn't know that I was a blubbering mess. All he knew was that when he needed something, I was there to keep him full, safe, and secure.

I am surely not the first mother to sometimes feel completely overwhelmed and unprepared, as if I am feeling my way blindly through this. Thank God for maternal instincts though I must confess that I doubted their existence. My son is now a rambunctious toddler who keeps us both going from dawn to dusk. As a mother, I think I am doing pretty well overall. There are days such as today that I feel completely frazzled and ready to just run away from it all, but then there are days such as yesterday when I can't believe it is humanly possible to love anyone as much as I love that little guy.

Life has completely changed, but it is for the better. Becoming a parent forces you to stop being so damn self-centered. I can no longer put myself first, and for the first time in my life, I don't want to. I can remember in college and before I got married spending my paycheck blindly on shoes, purses, and cute clothes, but now there are mortgages and groceries and pediatrician visits to pay for. And I have realized that I would gladly go without another pair of high heels so that my son can have that toy radio that makes him laugh and dance.

I have also realized that perfect families do not exist, and anyone who thinks their family is perfect is disillusioned. I will never be the mom who makes homemade cookies for the class party or who shows up at soccer practice in a cute little sundress or whose house is immaculately clean for sleepovers. I will be the mom who makes a late night run to the bakery and is lucky to get out of the house with matching shoes and who will sacrifice a little clutter to spend quality time with my son. I may not be the perfect mom, but that's okay. No one said it was going to be easy, and I am doing the best that I can.

Learn more about this author, Grace Brentley.
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