We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family”. “We are taking a survey” she said, 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 said, “no more sleeping in on week-ends, no more spontaneous vacations…” But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide where to begin to tell her…
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 hear a newscast 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 hair and clothes and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a mama 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 or thought.
I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That little 5-year-old prince’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!
Regardless of how decisive my daughter has been up to this point, she will second-guess herself constantly, as a mother. Looking at my beautiful 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 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 prince or princess 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, but not 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, drugs 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 daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to read or ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby 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 daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter’s hand and offer a prayer for her and for me and for all the mortal women who stumble their way into the most wonderful of callings…this blessed gift from God…
that of being a Mother.
“Whoever welcomes a little child in my name, welcomes Me; and whoever welcomes Me, welcomes the one who sent Me. For he who is the least among you all…he is the greatest.” Luke 9: 48
(Years ago, my sister sent this anonymous article to me…
Thank you, Diana)
~Jackie Johnson - I am a former tribal missionary to the Kuna Indians on the Colombian border in Central America. Fluent in several languages, my husband and I currently pastor a Spanish-speaking church in Southern California. My passion is mentoring and equipping dedicated young women for life, marriage, motherhood, and beyond. I am the mother of two daughters and the grandmother of three Princesses and four young Knights.
