I can tell you what it feels like to find out you have another life inside you, but I can't tell you what it's like to raise that baby up. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you what it feels like to feel that baby squirm and squiggle inside you, But I can't tell you what it's like to watch her learn to crawl. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you what it's like to dream of what they'll look like, but I can't tell you what it's like to watch them as they grow. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you what it's like to have people touch your belly, happily asking "when are you due?", but I can't tell you what it's like to hear them ask "how many months is she?". I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you what it's like to go to the hospital, go through labor and through birth, but I can't tell you what it's like to stay up all night due to a fussy baby. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you what it's like to hear the words "it's a girl!", but I can't tell you what it's like to hear her cry her first. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you what it's like to make milk to give your child, but I can't tell you how to nurse. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you what it's like to hold your baby for the first time, but I can't tell you what it's like to take her home. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell what it's like to have your heart outside of you, but I can't tell you what it's like to worry over sicknesses. I'm a mama, not a mom.
I can tell you all about a little baby girl, but I can't watch you as you hold her, tell me she looks like me. I can't tell you when she got her teeth, or how to handle colic, or how she goes to sleep. I can't tell you what to do when you just need time alone. I can't tell you, I don't know 'cause I'm a mama, not a mom.
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