I am still a mommy

I am sad.
There is no other way to put it.
It has been way too long since I have sat down and put real words on paper and now they’re overflowing …and it could get ugly.
I miss my daughter.
I don’t feel like a mother.
I feel like a lady who picks up my daughter in the afternoon…and that’s about it.
The only word to describe it is unnatural.
(I know I am going to the extreme… but I am feeling quite extreme at the moment).
Tonight was particularly bad. I picked her up from daycare only to drop her off again with her grandparents so I could head to the store and get my hair trimmed while daddy was coaching. I know she is in the best hands but seeing her fifteen minutes out of twenty-four hours tugs harder at my already breaking heart.
By the time we got home and changed clothes she was falling asleep.
I almost instinctively put her directly in her crib as she nodded off because that’s what we’re supposed to do, right? “Put them down as soon as they show the first sign of tiredness.” Don’t let them fall asleep in your arms, God forbid, rock them.”
But instead, I let my motherly instincts kick in.
I turned off all the lights, put on the I-pod and headed to the rocker.
My tight hold begged her to give me a sign…
…tell me that you know I am your mommy.
Tell me that I am not just some lady that picks you up from daycare and puts you in your crib.
Tell me, “Yes, I need you, mommy.”
And she did.
And I cried.
We touched faces and our bellies puffed in and out with each breath.
We listened to Bob Marley and she sang along in her own little coo as she drifted off.
And I realized that even if it is only for a few minutes a day, we are bonding.
I am her mommy.
And she knows it. 
 The view from my chest.

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