The best and most beautiful things in the world
 cannot be seen or even touched.
They must be felt with the heart.
~Helen Keller

Mother and Daughter

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions
that she and her husband are thinking of starting a family.
"We are 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 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 the physical wounds of child
bearing will heal, but that 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 cubs.
That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle
or her best crystal without a moments 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 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 her discipline to keep from
running home, just to make sure her baby is alright.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer
be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room
rather than the woman's at McDonalds will be 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 the 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 now that 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 theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will
become badges of honor. My daughters 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 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 hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most
issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat
of nuclear war to my children's future.

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 said. Then I reach across
the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her,
and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way
into this most wonderful of callings.   This blessed gift from God . . .
That of being a Mother.

Written by:
Dale Hanson Bourke

A Mother holds her child's hand for awhile,
But holds their hearts forever. . .

This story was sent to me by my niece Shay. I thought it would be so
appropriate for this time of  year when Mothers  Day will soon be here.
So, for my Mother, my two daughters,  and all the other
 "older", younger, and soon to be Mothers , my wish for you is
that you have a joyous and blessed day.
Happy Mother's Day to all of you. . .
*Ziplo*

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