Fwd: [123TheTeachersLounge] Being a Mother
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From another list, but oh so heart moving!
Stephanie
<< Don't cry!
A Conversation Between Friends
We are sitting at lunch when my friend 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 friend, 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 that 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 souffle or her best crystal without a moment's
hesitation.
I feel 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 childcare, 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 her discipline to keep from running home, just
to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday 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 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, now so important, will be of less value to her once
she has a child. That she would give it 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 friend's relationship with her husband will change, but 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 friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout
history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she
will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become
temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's
future.
I want to describe to my friend 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 soft fur of a dog or a cat 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 finally say. Then I reached across the
table, squeezed my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for
me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this
most
wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.
Please share this with a Mom that you know or a future Mom you know
"Author Unknown" >>
From: ROSE9796@...
Don't cry!
A Conversation Between Friends
We are sitting at lunch when my friend 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 friend, 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 that 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 souffle or her best crystal without a moment's
hesitation.
I feel 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 childcare, 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 her discipline to keep from running home, just
to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday 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 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, now so important, will be of less value to her once
she has a child. That she would give it 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 friend's relationship with her husband will change, but 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 friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout
history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she
will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become
temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's
future.
I want to describe to my friend 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 soft fur of a dog or a cat 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 finally say. Then I reached across the
table, squeezed my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for
me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most
wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.
Please share this with a Mom that you know or a future Mom you know
"Author Unknown"
Stephanie
<< Don't cry!
A Conversation Between Friends
We are sitting at lunch when my friend 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 friend, 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 that 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 souffle or her best crystal without a moment's
hesitation.
I feel 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 childcare, 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 her discipline to keep from running home, just
to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday 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 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, now so important, will be of less value to her once
she has a child. That she would give it 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 friend's relationship with her husband will change, but 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 friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout
history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she
will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become
temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's
future.
I want to describe to my friend 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 soft fur of a dog or a cat 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 finally say. Then I reached across the
table, squeezed my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for
me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this
most
wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.
Please share this with a Mom that you know or a future Mom you know
"Author Unknown" >>
From: ROSE9796@...
Don't cry!
A Conversation Between Friends
We are sitting at lunch when my friend 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 friend, 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 that 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 souffle or her best crystal without a moment's
hesitation.
I feel 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 childcare, 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 her discipline to keep from running home, just
to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday 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 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, now so important, will be of less value to her once
she has a child. That she would give it 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 friend's relationship with her husband will change, but 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 friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout
history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she
will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become
temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's
future.
I want to describe to my friend 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 soft fur of a dog or a cat 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 finally say. Then I reached across the
table, squeezed my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for
me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most
wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.
Please share this with a Mom that you know or a future Mom you know
"Author Unknown"