It’s the day we celebrate motherhood.
I am a mother myself, and I find that today I am remembering those first months of motherhood, before the birth, when I was trying my best to prepare as much as possible for what was coming. I couldn’t possibly prepare myself, but I tried, reading books, talking to mothers I respected, singing to the unborn wee thing who squirmed and wriggled and astonished me with how much love I could feel.
When she was born, so tiny, I learned that love could unfurl like a rose in bloom, and that it never fades, unlike a flower. It just keeps growing as the family grew. I kept learning and so did they. Four blessings, each of them unique, with a personality from the very first moment they drew breath. It astonished me then, and it still awes me now.
They are tall, now, three of them taller than their mother. They are growing so fast, and they are smart, and good, and kind, and no, I’m not biased. Ask anyone. I have wonderful children. One is trembling on the brink of opening her wings and flying away and I shall just watch her soar and smile until my cheeks hurt. It doesn’t diminish my motherhood to let them grow up and leap into the unknown – they are proving themselves and I trust them. No, my job is to be here, supporting them, until they are fully capable on their own. And then, perhaps, in the next decade, they will take the journey themselves to motherhood (and for the Little Man, toward becoming a mother’s supporter!).
I’ll tell them there is no way to prepare fully for it. You can try, but the glorious reality is that there is nothing like it. Nothing at all.
I love you guys. I always will, and I’ll always be here, mothering.