Mother's Day

It begins when you realize you're going to have a baby. For months we make sure we eat well, only take medication that is approved, go to the doctor repeatedly, plan and plan and plan and hope. We hear a heartbeat that is inside our bodies yet not our own. The blessed few of us who have multiples hear more than one at a time. We labor to give birth in so many different ways and places. Circumstances are never the same twice. Natural birth, home birth, hospital birth, c-section. Hard labor, easy labor, long labor, short labor. These months of growing a human and then the hours, minutes, seconds of the birthing process shape us and define us in ways incomprehensible to those who haven't experienced it.

We meet our babies. One at a time, two at a time... first baby, second, third...or even seventh, eighth or ninth, Each time it is new. Each baby is unique from the very beginning. They let themselves be heard and reckoned with each in their own way. Did you get a screamer? A calm baby? A good nurser? One that won't nurse? A sleeper? A non sleeper? A wiggler? A squeaker? In no way can the moment of introduction to my own children be quantified in mere words. It is a miracle, a wonder, a gift and an awareness of responsibility unlike any other.

Days, months, years of work ensue. Cleaning, bathing, laundering, wiping, clothing, diapering, more laundering, more cleaning. Well child visits. Sick baby visits. Wondering if it's time to take the baby to the doctor. Going to the doctor's office only to have your sick baby be completely healed by the time it's your turn to see the doctor. Or not. Trying to get a baby to swallow medicine is sometimes easy and sometimes like wrestling an alligator and a monkey at once. More bathing and laundering when your sick baby throws up the medicine all over you and their clothes.

Decisions have to be made. Pacifier? Bottle? Crib? Cradle? Rocking chair? Recliner? And the quest for the perfect name. The realization that decisions made can also, of necessity, be decisions changed. As the kids get older, the decisions seem to get more weighty. Which school? Which teacher? How much homework should 6 year olds really have? Should twins be in the same class or different classes? Will the other kids be nice? Will my kid be nice? (please don't let my kid be the biter in class!) Cleaning, bathing, wiping, clothing & always laundering. Laundering diapers and onsies somehow quickly becomes laundering sports uniforms.

As the physical and mental demands of being a mom are being met, we wonder if we are looking after the emotions of these small people the way we should. Am I too mean? Am I too nice? Am I fair? Are they going to grow up and go to counseling because we ruined them for life? (I think that is rarer than we moms think but it's terrifying anyway.) Fingers crossed that we aren't emotionally damaging them in some way we don't yet realize. Too harsh on them? Surely they'll grow to hate and resent us. Too easy on them? Surely they will grow to feel the world owes them something. Should we intervene in kid disputes? Should we talk to teachers? Can I ever do enough for this person I brought into the world?

Are we nourishing them spiritually? At our house, we are LDS & therefore Christian. Have I done a good job of teaching my kids about our Heavenly Father, about Christ? In any home, there are lessons we want our kids to know, regardless of religion. Things we hope they feel when they look at the world in which they live. Do they understand empathy? Are they willing to help others? Do they appreciate the sound of a bird, the buzz of a bee, the majesty of Yosemite, the infinite nature of the oceans, the age and height of the redwood trees, the shades of sunsets? We want to teach them to be, at once, both understanding of their infinite worth, their own power to effect those around them and the world while at the same time being humble enough to comprehend that they are pieces of a whole, a small cog in the wheel that is Earth. Humble enough to ask for help but strong enough to pursue ideas and dreams. I want them to be humbled when faced with the infinite and eternal. I want them to be confidant enough that they will head towards their goals without a qualm. I hope that they paint or write or sing or dance or strum a guitar in ways that touch their souls.

These words are not sufficient to describe motherhood because there are not words that can define it. Being a mom is difficult, exhausting, demanding and heart-wrenching. Sometimes it can only be tackled one minute at a time. It never ends which, at times, feels like a curse. Every moment is consumed by being a Mother. Being a mom is also a blessing and a joy. It is infinite in both its importance and wonder. There are times when the joy is difficult to see and there are more times when the wonder and significance of mothering is so overwhelming that it is impossible to comprehend, yet felt in every pore.