It’s funny what drives me these days. Last night, while getting ready for bed, I realized just how much my life has changed since Lily Bean was born. Conversations revolve around her, events revolve around her, priorities revolve around her. Everything changes. I don’t miss life before her. In fact, I hardly remember what life was like before her. The “freedom” to do whatever I want? Now I realize that something was missing in that “freedom.” She was missing in my arms all along.

So, now my days are spent analyzing poop, pee, changing cloth diapers and analyzing how they work, talking to new and experienced mothers on the internet almost on a daily basis regarding said poop, pee, and cloth diapering. I’ve joined various parenting and gdiaper/cloth diaper groups on the internet, and we spend all day, everyday (practically, in between naps and such), with me on my laptop analyzing each other’s poops, asking for advice on various things such as wipe solutions and position gdiapers and how to wash liners without using the dryer. I can’t believe how *into* it I am. I would’ve laughed if someone suggested to me a year ago that I would spend all my time on the internet researching poop colors and dirty diapers.

My life isn’t at all glamorous. Hell, it wasn’t even glamorous before I got pregnant. I find it amusing and interesting at the same time that I am so proudly displaying photos of her poop for whoever wants to see (I know I know: ew). Seriously, you don’t know just how much a kid changes you until you have one. And still yet, some mothers don’t change at all when they should. Motherhood, I’ve realized, is more of a choice and a privilege than it is a right or an automatic. Not everyone can be a mother, or a father. Just because you can get pregnant, have a sperm and an egg meet and go through the entire gestation period and give birth doesn’t make you a mother. I don’t know what makes you a mother. Is it the passion? The utter, blind acceptance of the new and awesome responsibility you now have towards another person? The complete devotion and dedication of all things that concern your baby? All of the above. It is going throughout your day having a dull sensation of love at the back of your heart that is always with you, even when you’re talking to someone else, having a meeting at work, being stuck in traffic. It is cleaning dirty diapers with utter excitement (read: “And what kind of wonderful artwork do you have for Mommy now, baby? OH GOOD, it’s a POOP!! GOOD JOB, BABY GIRL!! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!”), researching all the different ways on how to protect and guide your baby, talking seriously about parenting her when she’s 3 years old, 5 years old, 10 years old, the dreaded 14 years old, 18 years old, and yes, even after she’s flown the nest. It is daydreaming of her wedding day and imagining the person she will give her heart to. It is listening to every love song with a slight twist now: they are no longer for couple relationships, they are also for mother-daughter and father-daughter relationships.

Love grows when you become a parent, but only if you are up for the challenge. Even her cries make me swell up with pride.