The Moment

"At what moment did you feel like a mother for the first time?"

I held this question in great wonderment when I read it.

Huh.

          At what moment did I finally feel like a mommy?

The question was posed in a book from MOPS International (Mothers of Preschoolers).  It continued: "Was it when you first found out you were pregnant?  When you first laid your eyes on your tiny child?  Or did that moment happen years later?  Or has it not happened yet?"

The question lay buried in my mind for over a year.  And the answer came to me suddenly yesterday evening.

I finally know the answer!


The moment I first felt like a mother:
Scene: driving down the freeway through Spokane, a grey and rainy spring day, sitting in the passenger seat of our new-to-us mini-van with my husband at the wheel, perfectly round belly pregnant with a curled up baby girl, two empty car seats behind me, paper-sleeved coffee cup brimming with a steaming decaf vanilla latte.

And there it is.  The moment I felt like a mommy.

Nothing too spectacular.  Almost anti-climatic. . . except for the fact that the moment shone like a jewel.

It must have been a combination of the rain, a mini-van, a latte and my baby belly.  And being a passenger.  The moment wouldn't have happened if I had been driving.  Nor would it have happened if it wasn't raining.  The fact that it was a mini-van, and not a sedan, sealed the deal.  And to cap it off: the latte.  Most likely because I rarely drink coffee.


It is a moment I gently hold in the palm of my hand.

The moment I became a mom.