My mother and I didn't always see eye to eye. Growing up, I was what most people would refer to as "Daddy's Girl." We are very similar, my father and I, and my mother and I are extremely different. I got along with my mom. We didn't fight or do things out of spite for each other. It is just that my dad and I clicked. Anything that my dad did, I wanted to do.We were two peas in a pod. It was my dad who I went running to when I fell and scraped my knee, my dad who I let hold onto the back of my two wheeler bike, and yes even my dad that I went to when I had teenage boyfriend problems. I loved my mom very much; I just didn't think she'd understand.
However that relationship has changed very much in the last year and half. Something, or rather someone, has come along and made me realize exactly how much I am like my mom. Last year, on August fifteenth at 2:00 in the morning, as I was pushing my baby to come into this world, I was calling for my mother, not my father. I had called her when my feet swelled up so big that the only shoes I could wear were my crocs; I had called her when Jonah decided to kick me in the bladder on the way to my OB/GYN appointment, to borrow a pair of dry uderwear; I called her after holding my wrinkly, wiggley, new Jonah in my arms for the first time. It was my mother, not my father, who would understand this time.
And still, when Jonah has a fever, when I've been up for three nights dealing with a screaming teethig baby, and when Jonah goes on a nursing strike causing my milk supply to drop. I'd been told before that a woman's bond with her mother becomes stronger when she becomes a mother herself, but I didn't know to what extent. It doesn't seem like our bond has strengthened, it seems as if we have created a whole new bond between eachother.