I find myself dancing through my days according to what Lily Bean is up to. Will she be having peas, carrots, or pears today? My whole identity has changed in just a short period of time. When I say that I am “enjoying being a mother,” you have no idea what an understatement that is. Seriously, I am _enjoying_ being a mother. Like, there is absolutely no other joy out there that feels this good. Ten thousand times better than having an awesome meal. Ten thousand times better than quenching your thirst for water. Ten thousand times better than taking a hot bath after a long day. I am really, truly _enjoying_ being a mother. Seriously.

I suppose I always knew that I was a “nurturing” person in general. After all, I wouldn’t be a therapist, a counselor, a shrink, if that weren’t the case, right? I knew I would feel up to the task of caring for another helpless, innocent, completely true and beautiful little creature. I knew I would be able to handle it, as I’ve always taken my responsibilities seriously. I always knew that if given the chance, I would be able to love unconditionally, whole-heartedly, and completely. I always knew those things.

But somehow, I didn’t really truly fathom the depth of this type of love. My mother always talked about it, but her language was more threatening than loving. “I love you so much that you owe me your life.” Her own custom promotional product advertising how much my life was worth. I never really felt that her love was unconditional, no matter how much she swore it was. Just because it was usually accompanied by a threat, a if-then statement, a condition. “I love you unconditionally, so you better not disappoint me.”

I suppose in a way, I was afraid of being a mother. I think every good woman is. The realization of giving the best of yourself without expecting anything in return is frightening. Hoping that whatever your faults may be, that whatever your struggles are, your best is yet to be given to this tiny creature you helped bring into this world. She is your responsibility, so you better do right by her. And she owes you nothing because you created her out of your will, your love, your sheer motivation for the appreciation of life and the universe. Was the Big Bang planned because God thought it was time he was appreciated? No. Motherhood wasn’t planned merely for the same reason, either.

I want to do right by this little creature. Right now, our relationship is something made of fantasies and daisies. The love is powerful, the bond is there, the relationship is intact. She cries when I leave the room. She calls for me sometimes in the middle of the night to comfort here. There is often only one person who can make her world right again, and that’s me. To know that you have that infinite power to make another person that happy, that satisfied, and feel that safe. Wow, that’s amazing. I hope I don’t screw this up. For the love of God, and for the love of my daughter, I hope I don’t screw this up.

Because seriously, she is worth everything that I have in me. She is worth every little mistake I made in the past. Every little tear I shed. Just so that all the bad could be forgotten and forgiven so that all that is left is good, and all the good is put into her. I’m a mother now, and I can’t be more terrified of this role.