I had always wondered if I would be a good mom. I wasn't the motherly type when I was younger. I never cared much for baby dolls as a child. I was never that Beehive that wanted to hold and coo at all the babies in the ward.
Maybe it was because, being the oldest of 6....... meaning the overworked babysitter of 5........ I was already sick of the whole thing. It held no charm for me. Frankly, being a mom didn't sound like a whole lot of fun.
And I don't think it helped that at 13, I was in the delivery room when my baby sister was born. I wouldn't recommend it. I remember thinking, "there's no way I'm ever doing THAT!"
So I figured I wouldn't be winning any Mother-of-the-Year awards in my future, to say the least.
Then I got married........and finished school.........and I warmed up to the idea.
I was 23 when Marlee was born. We were living in Seattle with no family nearby.
My water broke in the middle of the night, & after only 4 hours of labor, and an epidural that was given too late (felt everything but the stitches), my baby girl was born.......... and I was now a mother.
Most of it was a blur, but I do remember so clearly.........the first time they brought that baby to me after she had been all cleaned up & checked out in the nursery.....crying.....needing to be fed...........and it was like a switch turned on in me. She was mine. I was hers. And I was never the same.