If there were ever a job, a title, she wanted, it would be this. Mom, mother, momma. There is not a thing more she would rather be. She is proud. She is content. For all the things of this world could not compare to such this life.
But if she was honest, bold, and brave, she’d say that it was the hardest thing she’s ever done. She’d tell you that she’s tired. That she can’t possibly wake up one more time in the middle of the night. That she might quit breastfeeding. That she’s sending laundry off to the dry cleaners. She’d tell you how worried she is, staying up at night, wondering if she’ll always feel this way. She’d tell you that she cries a lot. For no reason and the for all the reasons in the world. If she’s ever felt overwhelmed, it is now. Overwhelmed with love and joy and tasks. So many tasks. Her days run together. Her nights long. Her memory shot. And yet she desperately hopes that she’s savoring this time. That she’s remembering. That she’s making this count. That she isn’t just forgetting it all. She’s treading water trying to keep up, trying to appear all is well….and it is. It is very well. She understands that complicated sentence to no ends.
Today we honor her. Today we celebrate her and with her. Today we hear her story.
This is the unrivaled beauty of motherhood.
