Just for Mother's Day...

So, I jumped on online earlier to check my e-mail...

and received this from a dear friend.

Thought I would share it..

I've never read anything SO incredibly true.

To all you lovely ladies out there...

Happy Mother's Day!

May 10, 2009

And to my own precious Mom..

who has prayed for me, helped me, loved me..

I'm so thankful for you.

I love you.

Jonah was a couple weeks old.. Probably around 3 lbs. :)

I hope you will take the time to enjoy this..

I did.

IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

Written By: Dale Hansen Bourke

Time is running out for my friend. We were sitting at lunch when she casually mentions that she and her husband were thinking of "starting a family". What she means is that her biological clock has begun its countdown, and she is being forced to consider the prospect of motherhood.

"We're taking a survey!" she says, half-joking.

"Do you think we 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 Saturdays

and 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 child birth classes. I want to tell her that her physical wombs of childbearing heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional womb so raw that she will be forever venerable.

I consider warning her that she will never read another newspaper again without asking,

"What if that would have been my child?"

That every plane crash, every 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 to the 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 that I should warn her that no matter how many years invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going to an important meeting and she'll think about her babies' sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is alright.

I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That 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 the 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. She would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for so many more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her children 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, not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or never hesitates to play with his son or daughter. I think she should know that she'll fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to hit a baseball. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.

My friend's quizzical eyes makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes..

"You'll never regret it, " I say finally.

Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand, and offer a prayer for her and me and those mere mortal women who stumble their way into the holiest of callings.

Dale Hanson Bourke

Chicken Soup for the Expectant Mother's Soul