It's silent in my house right now. It's Sunday afternoon and the three of us took naps even after nearly twelve hours of sleep last night. My boys are still sleeping and I've been scrolling through my Instagram feed and smiling. It's all photos of Henry, or B and Henry or Henry and I. But it's all there. Every mundane moment. From the more high profile family outings, to the selfies Henry and I were taking just this morning. It's all there wrapped up in a pretty Instagram bow and it makes me smile.
It's times like this I can't help but think about how differently my life has turned out than I had expected. I live in a teeny tiny town in a house that I never would've chosen, working in an industry I knew nothing about, following a dream I didn't know I had the courage to follow, and rooming with two boys that are so much better than anything I could've ever dreamed about.
Rather than enjoying it, I spent much of my pregnancy worrying. I worried that I wasn't ACTUALLY ready to be a mother, I was worried that I was going to come out on the other side a completely different person, I was worried that I'd never bond with my baby and that I'd rush off to work each morning just to be with other adults. I was worried that I would have no idea what my baby wanted or needed and that I wouldn't now how to relate to him or her just as I'd never truly known how to relate to other children I'd met throughout my life.
The only one of those things that has happened is that I'm without a doubt a different person now. I'm a mother. A mother who now understands the difference a child brings to your life, no matter how they get there. I dread going to work every day and having to spend so much time away from my son. I've become a toddler translator who understands the one syllable words that he speaks. I spend my days understanding exactly what he needs and when he needs it even though I have no idea how I know these things. Was I actually ready to be a mother? Is anyone ever really ready for the life changing shake that a child gives you? I doubt it.
So now I sit in this teeny tiny town, in this house I never would've chosen, and I listen for the sounds of my husband walking down the hall or my son stirring in his crib and even though this silence is feeling really good for my soul, for my creativity, I cannot wait for them to wake up and fill my house with noise and chaos once again because that's what my life is now. It's noise and it's chaos and amidst all of it I'm standing here in awe that this is the life I've built for myself.