For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a Momma. I had the desire to give with every fiber of my being, a constant kind of giving because I had so much love inside me and nowhere to channel it all. I’ve heard people say that’s a selfish reason to have a child and maybe so, but it’s my truth. I was blessed to have a child a year after I got married. I was overjoyed and totally overwhelmed. I loved this child so much that I probably smothered him with way too much attention and affection, but I couldn’t help myself.
I was the classic mother hen. I always wanted to be the one to hold, feed, dress, diaper the baby. I believed I would do it the best because I cared the most. I remember thinking that there is no way that I could possibly love any more than I already do. I wondered what would be after I gave birth to my second child. When she came along I was shocked to find out that my reservoir of love was larger than I thought. I actually could love more, I did love more. I then understood that our limited finite bodies can hold infinite amounts of love which was confirmed to me with each ensuing child.
Eventually, I began to let others into our world without feeling the need to be in control of it all. I understood that part of loving my children is making room for others to be close to them as well, not just one overbearing Momma.
I used to think that mothers were Godlike because we bring children into this world, nurture them and care for them, but now I know it’s much more than that. We not only create something miraculous and wonderful but we continue to house an emotion that transcends time, space and logic and allows us to give more than we think possible. It seems to me that most people love their children naturally when they are born because they are an extension of themselves. However, that love grows every time we give, every time we sacrifice, every milestone we help them achieve, as well as every smile shared or tear shed together. It might be born out of extension, but it grows through sharing.
I am not the best mother in the world. I made my fine share of mistakes. People often say parenting should come with an instruction manual (as if anyone reads instruction manuals). Ideally, by the time we have babies, we should have gained enough compassion, morals and ethics to guide any thoughtful caring human to instinctively know what’s right for the average healthy child. Not to mention for virtually every opinion on what one should do in a given situation you will find an opinion that says exactly the opposite. I say this because we Mommas tend to beat ourselves up daily. Always wondering if we did the right thing. Always feeling we could or should do more. Those questions and doubts will always nag at us because we love our kids so much and that’s a good thing. At the end of the day, with all the heartache and mistakes considered, I do the best I can and I hope my children know that.
All the time, effort and concern has made me a better and more compassionate person and has given me invaluable insights. This Mothers Day I just want to say thank you to my kids who have taught me how to love in so many ways and continue to teach me that love is a journey beyond space that at the same time touches the core of my universe.