The Holiest of Callings

It doesn't appear that Macy Bleu will arrive, before our scheduled induction on February 4th, unfortunately :/ As Jamie says, "Well, Jadon, it looks like you have one and a half days with us all to yourself." I suppose that puts my heart and mind into a place of reflection on being the mommy of one, and the unknown of being a mommy of two. I am so thankful for this devotional that I came across recently. I could not have written it better myself...

What Motherhood Really Means

Condensed from "Everyday Miracles"
Dale Hanson Bourke

Time is running out for my friend. While we are sitting at
lunch, she casually mentions that she and her husband
are thinking of "starting a family." What she means is
that her biological clock has begun its countdown and
she is being forced to consider the prospect of motherhood.

"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 Saturdays,
no more spontaneous vacations..."

But that is not what I mean at all. I try to decide what to tell her.

I want her to know what she will never learn in child birth
classes: that the physical wounds of childbearing heal,
but that becoming a mother will leave an emotional wound so
raw that she will be forever vulnerable. I consider warning
her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking,
"What if that had been my child?" That every plane crash,
every 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 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
her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation.

I feel 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 child care, but one day she
will be going into an important business meeting, and she will
think about her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every
ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure
her child is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer
be routine. That a five-year-old boy’s desire to use the men’s room
rather than the women’s at a restaurant will become a major dilemma.
That issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed
against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in the
rest room. However decisive she may be at the office, she will
second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive friend, 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 it 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 his.

My friend’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in
the ways she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you
can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or who never
hesitates to play with his son or daughter. I think she should know
that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she
would now find very unromantic.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your
child learn to hit a baseball. I want to capture for her the belly
laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first
time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.

My friend’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed
in my eyes. "You’ll never regret it," I say finally. Then,
squeezing my friend’s hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all of
the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.