She's asleep. I'm awake.

I was rocking her to sleep last night, quietly singing Sea of Love and Moon River over and over into her left ear. With just enough light seeping through the crack of the door, I caught a glimpse of our blurred silhouette in the mirror and something hit me. It hit me so hard that my chest contracted and tears started to form.

I'm still trying to figure out how to express what it was, but I think it's partly that recognition of holy-crap-I'm-a-MOM, mixed with the more gradual realization that I am a part of this world. A world I'd chosen to reject and withdraw from for five years because I thought life was without worth or meaning. That there wasn't even a point to waking up and getting out of bed for it. I should probably explain.

As for the first part, I have to say: When I became pregnant with Addie, I was secretly REALLY worried that I wasn't maternal enough to have a child. I had held an infant once or twice in my life before her (besides my little sister, but only photos prove that), and I had changed diapers, hmmm, probably never. I never shrieked in delight when there was a child in my vicinity, and I was usually the one rolling my eyes and giving the stink-eye to the fussy baby in the restaurant (karma is such a bitch). In fact, it was a running joke in my family that I hated babies and loved feasting on them in various manners and methods.

Preparation for twenty years in the future.

So I waited for that "mom gene" to kick in, bestowing me with infinite patience, jeans that made my ass flat (the horror!), and a full compendium of nursery rhymes. But those things didn't happen, or they haven't so far. I'm still me, the Ariel that existed before her. Still selfish sometimes, still impatient, still utterly confused as to what age any given child is. Still blasting Blackalicious in the car, reading gossip websites, hoping to get hit on once in a blue moon. Forgetting to pack diapers or sunscreen every time she leaves the house because she has yet to purchase a proper diaper bag which would remind her to fill all those little compartments with stuff. Still feeling like a child herself. The infantile leading the infant.

Luckily after almost nine months, I now realize that I can still be that girl while raising a decent human being. What can I say, I'm a slow learner.

I swear I'm not just the nanny.

The second part? Things have changed a lot since I felt that way. I won't go into details, but I will say that freedom from depression and addiction has changed my life more than I could ever properly describe (even more than having a child). I feel PRESENT in my life today. No longer living in the past or fearing the future. Letting go of resentments, self-hatred, and regrets. Finally able to recognize and enjoy the beauty in the world that didn't seem to exist before I got sober.

Having moments like last night are just further proof of the miracles I get to experience now that I'm finally awake to them.

Gerbera Infantallis Grandiflorum