Chapter Thirty-Three - Her as a Mom (and Me Learning to Catch Up)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Her as a Mom (and Me Learning to Catch Up)

I THOUGHT I knew her.

The woman I married.
The one who danced in the kitchen.
The one who snorted when she laughed too hard.
The one who fought over paint colors and then kissed me mid-argument.

But then she became a mom.
And suddenly, she was new.

Not changed.
Not different.

Just… more.

She held that baby like she’d done it in another life.
Like the instructions were coded into her bones.

The way she hummed without realizing.
The way she said “I’ve got you” like a prayer.
The way she didn’t flinch. Not at the spit-up, the screams, or the sudden silence that made your heart stop.

She just moved.

Gracefully.
Sleeplessly.
Fiercely.

Like a storm in a soft sweater.

I struggled.

Not with the love. That came easy.
But with the helplessness.
With how naturally it all seemed to come to her and how slow I was to catch up.

She could tell the difference between cries.
I Googled them.

She could soothe with a glance.
I bounced the kid like a confused kangaroo hoping for a miracle.

I once put the diaper on backwards.
Twice.

But she never made me feel behind.

She let me learn.
Gently.
Quietly.

She’d smile when I got it right.
Guide me when I didn’t.
Hand me the baby and whisper, "They don’t need perfect. They just need you."

And when I broke down one night, bottle in hand, hair a mess, tears I couldn’t explain, she kissed my temple and said, "You're already the dad they’ll brag about one day."

Watching her be a mom?

It ruined me.
And rebuilt me.

Because in her, I saw everything I didn’t know I needed.
Everything I didn’t know our kid needed.

Not a superhero.
Not a goddess.

Just her.
Real. Messy. Magic.

And I realized, I didn’t fall in love with her all over again.

I fell deeper.