Welcome to Gaia! ::

Speechless!

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We are sitting at lunch one day when my
daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of
'starting a family.' 'We're 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 that the physical wounds of child
bearing will heal, but 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 cub. That an urgent call
of 'Mom!' will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal
without a moments hesitation.

I think 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 child care, 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 discipline to
keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every
day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's
desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will
become 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 that 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 once she has a child.
That she would give herself 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 daughter's relationship with her
husband will change, and 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 who 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 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 warm, 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 say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my
daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for
all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful
of callings.

Please share this with a Mom that you
know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always
have in your arms the one who is in your heart.