Wednesday, April 2, 2014
I was listening to a podcast recently and the pastor gave this commentary on motherhood by Dale Hanson Bourke. It really ministered to my heart and I thought y'all might also enjoy it.
She was sitting in a coffee shop with a friend who asked her opinion on whether or not she and her husband should have a child. This was her response.
"It will change your life, I tell her. she said 'I know, no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.' That is not what I meant at all. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw, she will forever be vulnerable.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and her stylish clothes and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a she bear protecting her cub. I want my friend to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine, every day decisions regarding the safety and well being of her child will all of the sudden feel like the most important decisions she will ever make. However decisive she is everywhere else, 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, while so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. She would give herself up in a moment's notice, but she will also begin to hope and pray for more years not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her children accomplish theirs. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. A visible trophy of motherhood.
I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your son 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 actually 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 I reach across the table, and squeezing my friend's hand. I offer a silent prayer for her, and me, and all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings."