Mother’s Day, like motherhood itself, is one of those things that manages to be so very individual and so very universal at the same time. As I celebrate the day with my two children, I feel blessed to be raising these two individuals unlike any others in the world, and as I look around me, I see mothers old and young experiencing those same feelings for their families, large and small.
In spite of the fact that Mother Nature gives us moms a full nine months to prepare for the miracle of childbirth, I remember with great clarity the moment the gravity of the task of being a mother hit me for the first time. It wasn’t when I found out I was expecting, or when the doctor placed my son in my arms at the hospital. The weightiness of the responsibility hit home for me when I realized the nurses were letting us leave the hospital with our child without an instruction manual.
After the panic passed, I realized that as miraculous as this tiny human being was to me, mothers from all over the world had been doing this for thousands of years. As the years have passed, like all of those mothers before me, we have survived, we have struggled, and we have thrived. From mastering car seat buckles, to removing training wheels, to the joys of parenting in the age of cell phones, each new phase brings a new learning curve.
My sweet little babies are now fully ensconced in the pre-teen and teenager world, and the years ahead of high school and drivers’ licenses seems more daunting than changing diapers and making bottles ever did. Watching my son and daughter become the people they were meant to be also provides me with more joy than I ever expected. They may grow older, but as I remind them every day, they will always be my babies. On Mother’s Day, I plan to take a day to reflect on just how happy that makes me.
Happy Mother’s Day!