Being A Mother
Ditulis oleh Feelyne
Saturday, 21 February 2009
Mother how are you today.... ??
We are sitting at lunch when my daughtercasually mentions that she and herhusband 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, carefullykeeping my tone neutral."I know," she says, "no more sleeping in onweekends, no more spontaneous vacations...."
But that is not what I meant at all. I lookat 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 thephysical wounds of child bearing will heal,but that becoming a mother will leave her with anemotional wound so raw that she will foreverbe vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will neveragain read a newspaper without asking"What if that had been MY child?" Thatevery plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.That when she sees pictures of starvingchildren, she will wonder if anything couldbe worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails andstylish suit and think that no matter howsophisticated she is, becoming a mother willreduce her to the primitive level of a bearprotecting her cub.
That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause herto drop a souffle or her best crystal withouta moment's hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter howmany years she has invested in her career,she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.She might arrange for childcare, but one dayshe will be going into an important businessmeeting and she will think of her baby's sweetsmell. She will have to use every ounce of herdiscipline to keep from running home,just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my daughter to know that everydaydecisions will no longer be routine.That a five year old boy's desire to go tothe men's room rather than the women's atMcDonald's will become a major dilemma.That right there, in the midst of clattering traysand screaming children, issues of independence andgender identity will be weighed against theprospect that a child molester may be lurking inthat 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 toassure her that eventually she will shed thepounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel thesame about herself. That her life, now so important,will be of less value to her once she has a child.That she would give it up in a moment to save heroffspring, but will also begin to hope for moreyears-- not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watchher child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar orshiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.My daughter's relationship with her husband willchange, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she couldunderstand how much more you can love a man who iscareful to powder the baby or who never hesitates toplay with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again forreasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my daughter could sense the bond shewill feel with women throughout history whohave tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I hope she will understand why I can thinkrationally about most issues, but becometemporarily insane when I discuss the threat ofnuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my daughter theexhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a babywho is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat forthe first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real, itactually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realizethat tears have formed in my eyes."You'll never regret it," I finally say.
Then I reach across the table, squeeze mydaughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her,and for me, and for all of the mere mortal womenwho stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
This blessed gift from God . . . that of being a Mother.
Author Unknown - Submitted By: Brenda T.