before

Before I was a mom,
I slept all night and woke up rested.
I never worried about staying up too late.
I brushed my teeth every day and showered each morning.
I went to movies on the spur of the moment and had dinner in cloth-napkin restaurants.
I completed my train of thought and checked things off my list.

Before I was a mom,
My house stayed clean.
My shoes were always where I’d left them.
I never tripped over toys or found Cheerios in strange places.
I never wondered if my plants were poison­ous.
I never closed the bathroom door or scanned the floor for choking hazards.
I never worried about shopping cart handles.

Before I was a mom,
I never held down a screaming child in the doctor’s office.
I never felt my heart break when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried back.
I never wished it could have been me instead.

Before I was a mom,
I felt mature.
I knew the proper response to any situation.
I didn’t know my child would surprise me.
I didn’t know I’d doubt myself.
I didn’t know things would be complicated.
I didn’t know the job would be so hard.

Before I was a mom,
I didn’t know I’d drive more carefully,
Take fewer risks and more precautions.
I never had nightmares of being parted from my child.
I never cried over Amber alerts
Or muted violent TV commercials.
I never trembled when I watched the news
Or worried about how the world would be after I was gone.

Before I was a mom,
I never sat up at night watching a baby sleep.
I never kept holding him just because I didn’t want it to end.
I didn’t know my baby’s sweet smell
Or the sound of his soft breathing.
I’d never felt his warm face on my cheek
Or his little arms around my neck.

Before I was a mom,
My heart was my own.
I didn’t know someone so small could make my life so full.
I didn't know feeding a hungry baby would feed a part of me, too.
I didn’t know I had so many empty places
Or so many capable of overflowing.
I didn’t know my heart was so vulnerable…
Or so strong.

I didn’t know what I was missing.