Author: Skye Hardwick

Your mother saw your first sweet smile. She gladly received your first sloppy kiss. She experienced the joy of your first tooth, and fed you your first bite of smashed carrots. Your mother cheered you on the first time you walked into the waiting arms of your father. Her heart leapt bounds when you giggled for the first time. She became a doting "nurse" when you had your first cold. When learning to walk, she wept with you when you had your first big tumble.

Your mother will be the first one to take you to kindergarten, and the first to greet you when you get off the bus. She will be the one to scoop you up in her loving arms when you are lonely, and the first to scare away the boogie man when you are just certain he is under the bed. Your mother will be the first to hear about your big crush on Billy, and the first to see you off to the prom. She will be the first to comfort you when your heart is broken for the first time, and every time after that.

Your mother will be the first one to see the exquisite ring proudly displayed upon your finger. In the bride's room, your mother will gasp when she sees for the first time what a beautiful woman you've become. When it comes to the mother and daughter dance at your wedding, she will be the one dancing. And She will be the first to greet her pink new grandchild into the world.

Now, my firsts are not the same, but they are mine.

I was the first one to know of your existence. I was the first to hear your tiny heart beat, and I was the first to see traces of you during the ultrasound. I was the first one to pat you when you were squirming and needed comfort, and I softly sang you your very first lullaby. I was the first and only one to feel you leap and dance within my womb. I was the first to tell you it would all be okay, like only a mother can do.

I was the one who pushed with all she had as you made your entrance into this world. I was the first one to be breathless gazing upon your newness. I was the first to embrace you, and I was the first to speak tenderly to you. I was the first and only to lay you at my breast, and I was the first to shed tears over letting you go.

I was the one who placed you in the arms of your new mother. I was the first to watch her hold you, her new daughter. I was the one who kissed your forehead and whispered, "Forgive me...." I was the the first, but not the last, to lay down her heart for the sake of yours. Yes, my child, I may not have all of your "firsts", but I am the First.

I am your First Mother.  

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