Mama

I have been waiting since the day my sweet Cub was born to hear him say "mama".  And now, right before he turns two, he is saying it.  "Maaa-muh!", when he wants me to come attend to something.  "Mama?", when he wakes in the night, making sure I am still there in the dark and quiet or that he is really awake and not dreaming.  "Mama, Mama, MA-Muh" when he just wants to hear the way it sounds and hear me say "Yes baby?" to make him smile.  Mama.  I like my new name.  I like knowing that this is who I am to this dear little boy.  Whatever a mama is, that is who I am to him.  That is how he knows me.  I am the one who feeds him, plays with him, talks to him, holds him.  The first face in the morning the warmth and comfort throughout the night.  The one who makes toys out of pots and pans and whatever else is lying around.  The one who stands over the stove and squats down to listen and lifts up to kiss away tears.  The one who makes him take his medicine and sit through face scrubbings and nail clippings and hair brushing.  The one whom he will one day break free from because he will know that, really, we are never apart.  The one who shows him that love is a link as I hold him, standing next to Daddy and all our arms go twining around each other.  Mama.  Mama.  Mama.  Yes baby, that is me.