I turn and face the road again. "Sometimes I can't believe he's even real."
"You say that a lot," my mother remarks. "You need to get used to it!"
I guess I do talk (and write) frequently about my feelings of wonder and disbelief when it comes to Westley. He's almost eleven months old. He's probably not going anywhere at this point. Except that he is--looking taller every day, itching to walk, vocalizing and gesturing and acting more like a toddler all the time. I'm with him practically all the time. And I can't quite believe him.
It's very weird when something you wanted for a long time finally becomes a reality. I've wanted to have a baby--to be a mother--ever since I was three and found out that a baby was something you could have. For most of my life, a child of my own was just a dream for the future. Some day... Now that some day is today, I realize that I don't really know how to be as a mother.
Having a baby was hugely life-changing, of course, but not in the ways I expected. After about the fourth grade I started to hate my birthday, because I always expected to feel different now that I was officially a year older, but nothing changed; I was still just me. Westley's birth was the same. I expected to feel radically changed after he was born, but I was still just my normal self (apart from having an intense craving for pancakes). And in those first few weeks, a lot of the expectations left over from my fantasies about what having a baby would be like were unmet. I made a conscious effort to stop expecting anything, so as to avoid disappointment.
As a result, I'm often surprised by what I find when I look around. I don't expect to get used to it any time soon, and I'm not sure I want to. It's a joyful surprise. I don't want to take my little boy for granted, or to compare him to some fantasy baby. Not expecting and just experiencing really brings home how lucky I am. I've won the jackpot.
.....................................
