Being a Mom

Being A Mom

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family.""We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."
But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn inchildbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so rawthat she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and thinkthat no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce herto the, primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!"will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystalwithout a moment's hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell.She will have to use every ounce of discipline tokeep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually shewill shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about her self. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change,but not in the way she thinks.I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your childlearn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this, most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mom that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.


Amazing, right? And so true! I love the way this describes how you feel as a mom. I can especially identify with the part about being "raw." Sometimes, I come home from work and pick Elias up out of his crib, hold him and cry. Even though it might wake him up, I need to feel his sweet breath, as I think about all the sick children I have seen that day. All the parents who have to make life and death decisions about their child's health and sometimes have to watch them die because of those decisions. There is NOTHING worse. I heard one time a quote about how women who lose their husbands are called widows and men who lose their wives are called widowers. Similarly, children who lose their parents are called orphans. But there is no name for a parent who loses a child. There are just no words for that.
God, please wrap your arms around all the mothers who are grieving now. I know so many who have lost their little ones and have no words for it. Give them peace and give me strength as I take care of children who are still fighting for their lives. May I be a balm to the mothers' wounds of fear, doubt, and uncertainty.