I wrote this for my mom and gave it to her for mother's day this past year. I was four months postpartum and deep in thought about how motherhood was truly turning out to be. My sister and I were having a text conversation a few weeks before that and she said something along the lines of "Isn't it kind of crazy to realize what all Mom really did now that you're doing it?" Yes. It is crazy. The realization is sometimes overwhelming. And I imagine it'll be that way for the rest of my mothering life.
It's humbling, now that I'm doing this, to know that my mother has gone on this journey four times. Four times she has offered up every ounce of herself to welcome and to raise a brand new human.
Before I tried it myself...
I didn't understand that her existence became purely for the life of another each time.
I didn't understand that her mind would be hijacked by sudden and intense intuition and equally intense doubt.
I didn't undestand that she was constantly digging for and finding hidden strengths just when she needed them most.
I didn't understand that she didn't sleep -- really, truly, didn't sleep.
I didn't understand that some days she felt like a robot and other days she felt like a brilliant activities manager.
I didn't understand that she would have cried with frustration too many times to count.
I didn't understand that in the thick of everything, she would have wondered if she was cut out for this.
I didn't understand the fierceness of the love that she feels.
I didn't understand that she pushed through seemingly insurmountable obstacles to show up again and again and we never had a clue.
I haven't always known exactly how special it is to have my mother, but now, as I take on mothering, I am beginning to understand.