The joy of a mum

 

I read this yesterday and thought I would share…

“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 sleep…ing 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 child bearing will 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 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 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 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.

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 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.”
Author unknown

 

This captures being a mum so well. That heart living outside of your body, stressing over details that are in your control, and worse, those that aren’t in your control.

Discovering the little personality that is growing in the life you have made and sharing in the joys as they grow and discover.

Yesterday, I got to experience the success of my eldest boy and I tell you, I had tears and screamed like a crazy woman for him. It has always been a joke that I would become a ‘soccer Mooommmmm’. Last year be brought the mini van and this year we completed the prophecy by not only having a little soccer player but also coaching and team managing the little team! Over the last few weeks while Adley was excited about playing…he really didn’t show any great enthusiasm on the field, choosing to take notice of the other kids boots and asking about when he could eat the oranges. But yesterday, he was focussed, keen to plan, and got in the action chasing and kicking the ball. He checked on a team mate when he was hurt (at the detriment of the other team kicking a goal) and encouraged his other team mates, cheering their names and giving them high fives. I was so proud of this ‘new and improved’ soccer player and then he topped it all off by intercepting the ball, dribbling towards the goal and kicking his first ever goal. You should have seen his face! He turned around to me, beaming with a smile that wrinkled up his eyes and threw his arms in the air!

“I did it mum! I kicked a goal! woohoo”

Oh my goodness…talk about joy that is so real that it actually hurts!

My little man, who drives me crazy with his constant noise; singing, whistling, jumping and creating pandemonium. The little guy who is sweet and kind enough to play mums and dads all morning with his little sister. My boy who is creative enough to turn LEGO into rocket ships and boxes into swords and the kid who snuggles up next to me as we read the Chronicles of Narnia together.

My boy who made me a mum….he scored a goal…and the first thing he did was turn to me and scream “I did it mum!” Yes. I never will regret becoming a mum and I am thankful beyond measures for the children God has entrusted me with. I hope and pray that as they grow they will continue to turn to me and share the joys and successes of their lives.

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