30 Days Till 1: What Motherhood Has Taught Me

Dear Sweet Pea,

Can you believe it? In a few weeks, you’ll be one. For nearly 366 days (because of the leap year), you’ve filled our house—and my heart—with joy and laughter. My once-stylish living room now looks like the Target baby aisle exploded, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re learning how to wave, say “bye-bye,” blow kisses, and play peek-a-boo. You crawl like you’re training for the Olympics and grip our hands like we’re your personal tour guides through life. You’ve got two and a half teeth, you’re eating me out of house and home, and you’ve recently discovered spitting as a way of getting under my skin.

But here’s what you don’t know yet: I’m learning just as much as you are. Maybe more.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant with you, I became someone new. I became a mother. That word is still something I’m growing into. It’s a role that asks for constant surrender, to sacrifice, to trust my instincts, to let go of the version of me that once had everything “figured out.”

I turned down my dream job while pregnant with you. A publication I’d prayed to write for—one that came to me, not the other way around. But taking it meant losing benefits, juggling two full-time jobs, and risking my health during one of the most important seasons of my life. And you, Sweet Pea, were worth more than any byline. You are the dream. The rest can wait.

Even breastfeeding didn’t go the way I planned. I watched the tutorials, took the classes, stocked up on all the things. I imagined a year of bonding moments. But 23 days in, it ended. On the morning of the 23rd day, I felt something in my spirit telling me to buy formula, and thank God I listened. That small act of intuition kept you full and safe. I cried, but I also understood: motherhood isn’t about doing things “right.” It’s about loving you in real time, however that looks.

You also taught me something I didn’t expect—that comfort is a sign it’s time to move. You grow, and then you reach. You fall, and then you try again. You outgrow your toys, your swaddles, your fears. And watching you has made me brave enough to do the same.

I’ve learned to stop shrinking for the sake of ease. To stretch when it’s hard. And to see God in the daily mess (spit-up and all). You’ve shown me how to laugh when I’d rather cry, how to rest when I’d rather rush, and how to believe that beginnings can be holy, even when they come wrapped in exhaustion.

Next month, we’ll celebrate you. Balloons, cake, pizza, and all. I’ll probably overdo it (because that’s what moms do when love overflows), but in the quiet moments between it all, I’ll be right here, watching you, learning from you, growing alongside you.

Sweet Pea, you are my greatest teacher. My favorite story. And My why.

With Love,
Mommy