This is long, but SO worth it - "Motherhood"
Hi girls,
I got this on an email this week and thought it summed motherhood up exactly. Enjoy!
:D
I am sitting at lunch one day with my best friend when she 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 her, 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 child bearing will
heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with emotions that are 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 "Mum!"
will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments
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 her 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 clattering 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. 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.
Her relationship with her husband will change, and 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 she could sense the
bond she will feel with women throughout history.
I want to describe 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.
Her 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 her 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.
