The other day I was cleaning out one of my many miscellaneous drawers that holds everything from old pairs of sunglasses to my wisdom teeth (G is totally grossed out that I still have mine in a box). While I was going through a pile of jewelry, I came across a charm bracelet my mom gave me a few years back. It reminds me of her more than just about any other item, with its subtle wind chime clink and a heart charm made of sea glass. For some reason, finding it struck a chord: that I’m going to be a mother soon and my daughter will one day associate me with similar things.
In some ways, I’ve found pregnancy and the idea of having a baby so overwhelming that I forget that our daughter won’t always be an infant. That she’ll grow up and will hopefully look up to me the same way that I always have my own mom. With adoration as a child, while she watches me get ready for a date, or when she hears the lullaby I sang to her (probably off-key) long after she’s outgrown our nighttime ritual.
It excites me that this is a new role that I get to fill, one that has the ability to shape and inspire through even the smallest gestures. Impending motherhood is incredibly intimidating, but when I focus on something as simple as how a pretty charm bracelet can flood me with such happy memories, the pressure is lifted, if only momentarily.
