Being a mother is a journey of discovery

I have been a mother for roughly 1,730 days.

Before that, I had many titles: wife, sister, daughter, co-worker with no sense of personal space.

And then, this momentous occasion occurred wherein a nurse in blue scrubs handed me a baby and my own mother chimed in from somewhere in the back of that delivery room to exclaim, “You’re a mom!”

Excuse me. What?

I remember thinking there should have been a much more stringent screening process because those hospital nurses just let us walk out of there with this little baby. Didn’t they know we were totally clueless? Didn’t they know I had killed four goldfish and numerous houseplants in past efforts to keep another living thing alive?

All I could hear as we walked out of the hospital — terrified and exhausted — was the sound of my mother’s voice on loop saying, “You’re a mom!”

Well, 1,730 days later and I’m still trying to decide what exactly that seemingly simple sentence means.

I first started this column with the hope of discovering what it meant to be a mother. I have written this column for three-and-a-half years — since my oldest daughter turned 1. This will be my last full-length column, although I will still be writing on the Just4Moms blog each week.

I wish I had some grand epiphany about motherhood to share. I wish I could reveal the secret to being a Supermom or being eternally patient.

But I have no great revelation today. I know a lot more about myself as a mother than I did in that delivery room years ago, but the only thing I know for certain is that being a mom is a process. You don’t become a mom when you leave the hospital. You don’t get a motherhood certificate to hang on the wall next to a birth certificate.

If only it were that black and white.

Motherhood is a process. I am a work in progress. Being a mom can’t be checked off a to-do list. You don’t receive a diploma. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever fully become the mother I want to be or the mother my children deserve.

I do know I will be a different mother tomorrow than I am today or than I was when that nurse handed me a pink puffball with trusting eyes.