She never believed all those stories about motherhood.
How it managed to suck you in and never release its hold on you. She never believed that you could love something so little so much. When she chose to be with Jim, she never thought it would come to this.
It was a little after 3 am, Jim was fast asleep next to her, exhausted by the events of the day. She kissed his bare shoulder and then got up to admire their newborn son.
He didn't rouse when she picked him up, just fussed a little and went straight back to slumber. She wondered if babies could dream. She gently rocked back and forth in the rocking chair and studied his features. Her nose and mouth, definitely. His thick brown hair. She could tell, even though he was only 12 days old, that he'd grow up a tall drink of water, athletic if he was so inclined. Maybe he'd grow up to be a bookworm.
She grabbed one of the books off the nursery shelves, the one about the moon.
She read it to herself, listening to him breathe against her chest. She never believed all those stories about motherhood, until this very moment.