Motherhood is...

Motherhood is reaching out to catch the warm vomit as it exits the small being you and your beloved created.  Motherhood is cleaning up the playroom long after the twins have gone to sleep because it’s just too much effort to make them do it.  Motherhood is wiping noses, bottoms and hands, a million times a day; having fingerprints on your windows and dirty shoes in your entry.

Motherhood is feeding your infant, your toddler, your teenager, all before you ever sit down.  Motherhood is an eternity of cold meals.  Motherhood is sweeping, vacuuming and dusting followed by spitting, spilling and drooling.  Motherhood is load after everliving load of laundry.  Wash, dry, fold and repeat.

Motherhood is nine months of anticipation and eighteen years of counting down.  Motherhood is training up your children to take care of themselves, making your very own job obsolete.

Motherhood is a childhood dream come true.  Motherhood is a baby doll come to life.  It is feeling your baby’s first motion, fluttering inside you.  Motherhood is holding that brand new person, wrapped in a receiving blanket, knowing you are all they could ever need.  And they are all you could ever need.

Motherhood is rocking them to sleep, kissing those sweet jowly cheeks and praying earnestly for two hours of sleep in a row.  Motherhood is wiping tears, kissing owies and soothing heartbreak.  Motherhood is tolerating tantrums and righting perceived injustices.

Motherhood is spontaneous hugs, lopsided kisses, and unexpected pride.  Motherhood is wishing time would hurry up and slow down at the same time.

Motherhood is a myriad of dichotomies.  Loving your child when they are good and when they are bad.  Wanting them to succeed, but also knowing they will need to fail.  Motherhood is your tender heart filled with joy as they grow, and aching sadness as they leave.

Motherhood is a sacrifice we would make, time and again,  
because our hearts are in those littles we created. 
And theirs are in us.


Amos said...
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Rox said...

Beautiful poem.
What happy boys our riding bikes. And Wyatt is such a handsome baby boy in the close up of his face. He looks so clean and smelly good and kissable!