Mother’s Day brings a rush of memories about our mothers. We
hear about the significant roles they play and the way they impact our lives.
While I have infinite stories I could tell about my own precious mom, I decided
to share instead about my role as a mother to my two children.
There is absolutely no way a woman can ever understand
motherhood until it happens to her. And even once she holds that tiny bundle in
her arms, she still finds that she cannot find words to adequately define the
flood of emotions that hijack her heart.
My experience with motherhood began when I was a very young
twenty-two year old. I was not quite two years into my marriage when we
welcomed our first child into the family. During the pregnancy, I grew not only
physically larger but more and more excited about the upcoming role of
motherhood I would play. That’s how I saw it—a role I would play. It was all
still a fantasy to me about how the day-to-day mothering would happen. Being a
good Girl Scout who always wanted to be prepared, I had read books: yet I felt unprepared and frightened. Simultaneously
I felt excited by the adventure.
After a fourteen-hour labor and enough drugs to keep me from
being fully present during the birth, I delivered a son instead of the daughter
I had assumed we would have. It wasn’t that I preferred one sex or the other—I
just expected it would be a girl. But a boy! That was a totally unexpected
emotion. I was pretty clueless about raising any sort of child, but a boy was a
mystery to me, and the skills to raise one not anywhere in my repertoire.
I didn’t get to see my baby boy immediately, but when the
nurse placed him in my arms there was that immediate surge of mother-love that
surpasses any kind of explanation. I just gazed at him with wonder, and with a
love so deep and eternal that it defied all understanding.
With each passing day with my little boy, I loved him more
fiercely. I admired all the things he learned to do, basking in the perfection
of his little mind, the expressions on his face that changed minute by minute,
how physically beautiful he was. His
endearing personality and his desire to please us made him such an ideal child
that I honestly thought I might never have another baby because how could I
possibly love another as much as I loved him?
Then the time came that we decided to have another child. I
still felt fearful that I would not love the next baby as much as I loved my
son, but I was assured by more experienced mothers that it would not happen
that way. So I trusted their wisdom as I awaited the new baby.
This time, even though the labor was equally long and hard, I
was fully awake and present for the birth, and my little daughter was placed on
my chest immediately. I still vividly remember the look on her tiny face as she
opened her big brown eyes and gazed into mine with a look of absolute and
certain recognition. Without words, her expressive eyes told me, “So that’s what you look like, Mommy!” It
was an incredible moment.
All my fears vanished in the hours and days to come as I held
this new baby who looked and acted very different from the first, yet already
had captured my heart in her tiny fist. My love for her was equally as fierce
and undivided as what I had felt for her brother.
My baby girl was quieter than her brother, more uncertain in
her world. She just needed more time to process things and get comfortable with
what was going on, but given time she eased comfortably into new situations. As
bright as her brother, she demonstrated very early that she was not only smart,
but had an innate kindness and sensitivity toward others. She was physically
beautiful too, and had a delightful sense of humor. Like her brother, she
became an absolute joy to us.
Through all their growing years, my children delighted me. I
can’t say with honesty that they never exasperated me or caused me pain, but my
overriding emotions were gratitude and awe that God had given me these two
special creatures to raise and nurture. It never stopped being a job that was
humbling, gratifying and terrifying, all at the same time.
I watched these little ones grow more capable, gain more
understanding, become more compassionate, find their creativity, learn how to
treat people, and discover who God created them to be. It was a wild,
exhilarating ride for this mother. Their achievements and accomplishments were
even more gratifying to me than if they had been my own. I physically ached
when they were hurt or sick. My heart felt broken when they experienced their
own heartaches. I would have stood on the tracks facing an oncoming train for
them if that had been necessary.
When they each left for college, there was an unfamiliar tug
on my heart. Part gladness and pride, part painful separation. I watched in
amazement from a distance as they navigated the adult waters of college and
swam successfully to the other shore.
In the years following college, they each found true love and
married. Another wrenching—not because I did not want them to be happily
married or because I disapproved of their choices. It was just another change
in the relationship that took them to a new place and put me in a different
supporting role.
As our relationships now are adult-to-adult, I bask in the
friendship between my children and me. I will always be their mother, and they
will probably always—at least until I lose my mind!—look to me for answers and
wisdom. But the fun and gratification of conversing and interacting with them
as the best of friends is priceless.
How blessed I am!
My story is not your story. Every woman is not called to
motherhood nor given the gift of children. And truthfully, while being a mother
was always most important to me, it is not the only way God has used me. He has
developed gifts in me apart from those required to nurture two children.
Therefore I would never want to suggest that women are not fulfilled or
complete or adequate apart from motherhood. This is simply my story.
The role I auditioned for in the beginning turned out to be a
much more key part than I ever imagined. After a long run on stage, I stepped
back into more of a supporting role. There is no Tony award for my work, but
the rewards are worth far more than anything else I ever wanted to do with my
life. My children and the way they bless and serve others—the way they give
glory to the Lord Who made them—is my Tony award.
