They always need their mama.
They need their mama when they’re playing in the living room and their heart suddenly realizes its other half isn’t in the room.
They need their mama when it’s the middle of the night and their nose is stuffy. They need to know they just aren’t alone when the light goes dark.
They need their mama when they have a “super cool” story where only their mama would understand the significance.
They need their mama to wipe their tears.
To give a magical kiss that heals everything.
To understand when they have big feelings.
To hug when they’ve been playing alone for too long.
For help learning a new task and everything is just too frustrating.
And in the monotonous day-to-day of them “always needing their mama,” our hearts have somehow transformed into one.
A mama love I could never explain.
The way my heart has morphed into something I could have never envisioned years ago . . .
The way I somehow don’t mind when they need me in the middle of the night when I’m exhausted.
The way my heart aches for their snuggles in the dark of night.
The way my needs and desires bend to their needs and desires.
Don’t get me wrong . . . I’m still in there.
My dreams and desires haven’t gone away or changed.
But my heart has morphed into something bigger.
Because a mother’s heart just magically changes when it becomes a mother.
And try as you might, it will just never be the same.