“Somebody Needs Me.”

Ever since we brought our new daughter home, somebody has needed me. I could be enjoying a quick shower then the baby starts crying.”  Or, sitting down for a second, quite aware that the baby was beginning to stir from a nap. Some days never seem to end, and the monotony of being “needed” can really take its toll. Then, it all started to hit me, she needs ME.  Not anybody else.  Not a single other person in the whole world.  She needs her Mommy.
The sooner I can accept that being Mommy means that I never go off the clock, the sooner I can find peace in this crazy stage of life.   That ‘Mommy’ is my duty, privilege and honor. I am ready to be there when somebody needs me, all day and all night.  Mommy means I feel ragged, unshowered, pulled in every direction, un-focused, spread too thing, and just plain exhausted.  Mommy means my husband and I haven’t had a real conversation in months.  Mommy means I neglect myself and put others before my needs, without a thought.  Mommy means that my body is full of aches and my heart is full of love.
I am sure there will come a day when no one needs me.  My baby will be long gone and consumed with her own life.  I may sit alone in some assisted living facility watching my body fade away.  No one will need me then.  I may even be a burden.  Sure, she will come visit, but my arms will no longer be her home.  My kisses no longer her cure.
So for now, I find beauty with rocking in our cozy little nursery.  It’s 8pm and I am exhausted and frustrated, but it’s okay, she needs me.  Just me.  And maybe, I need her too.  Because she makes me Mommy.  Some day I will sit in my wheelchair, my arms empty, dreaming of those quiet nights in the nursery.  When she needed me and we were the only two people in the world.
Can I enjoy being needed?  Sometimes, sure, but often it is tiring.  Exhausting.  But, it isn’t meant to be enjoyed every moment.  It is a duty.  God made me her Mom.  It is a position I yearned for long before I would ever understand it. Yep.  All day, everyday.  That’s my job.  And I have to admit that it is the toughest job I have ever had. 
Once upon a time, I had time.  For myself.  Now, my toe nails need some love.  My bra fits a little differently.  My curling iron might not even work anymore, I don’t know.  I can’t take a shower without feeling rushed.  My hair is limp, my skin us dull & the bags I have under my eyes should be leaving on vacation.  My proof of motherhood.  Proof that somebody needs me.  That right now, somebody always needs me.
These years of being needed are exhausting, yet fleeting.  I have to stop dreaming of “one day” when things will be easier.  Because, the truth is, it may get easier, but it will never be better than today.  Today, when I am covered in baby spit up.  Today, when I savor those chubby little cheeks pressed up against mine.  Today is perfect.  ”One day” I will get pedicures and shower as long as I want.  ”One day” I will get myself back.  But, today I give myself away, and I am tired, and dirty and loved SO much, and I gotta go.  Somebody needs me.