Please, don't call me superwoman. These days, we hear the word superwoman thrown around a lot when it comes to being a mom. I am sure, though, that I am not superwoman, and, even more than that, I know that I don't want to be superwoman.
I believe I am excessively ordinary. When I became a mom, nothing about that changed. I didn't don a cape, I didn't start to fly or see through solid walls. This is what happened: my heart grew. It grew to include a tiny baby girl who immediately captured my attention and my love. It grew with love for husband who suddenly became a puddle mush in the presence of his baby daughter. It grew with admiration for my parents because I suddenly realized just how much they loved me. It grew with joy as I watched my brother transform into an uncle. It grew for my friends and family who immediately accepted and loved my daughter as if she was always a part of their lives, as if she was always meant to be here.
That love does not make me a superwoman. No.
It makes me human.
It connects me to mothers throughout the world and throughout history who love and sacrifice for their children. It reminds me that parenting is always a learning experience. It taught me deeper appreciate for myself and my body and my abilities.
My children have taught me immeasurable patience. They have shown me joy. They have expanded my heart and given me joy.
They have made me more human.
No, I am not superwoman.
I am mom.
And, that is what I always wanted to be.