Motherhood

Current mood: grateful

One of my best friends, Dianna sent this to me in an e-mail and Icried right there in front of the computer. It explains exactly how I feel about being a mother. I can't imagine my life being any different, and I wouldn't want to. I love my daughter so much, and I thank God for such an amazing gift.

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 in childbirth
classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds
of childbearing will eventually heal, but becoming a
mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw
that 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 think that no matter how sophisticated she
is, becoming a
mother will reduce her to 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
crystal without 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 to keep from running
home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions
will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's
desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's
at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right
there, in the midst of c lattering trays and screaming
children, issues of independence and gender identity
will be weighed against the prospect that a child
molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will
second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure
her that eventually she will shed the pounds of
pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about
herself.

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 child learn 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 tea
rs have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I
finally say.

Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's
hand and offer 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.