Sometimes it’s very difficult to be a mother
Yes, it’s worth it. Yes, it’s the most powerful experience a woman can have. Yes, nothing will mark you as much as the moment you finally hold your children in your arms, deliciously dirty, wet, hot, out of you?And he looks inside you, his eye enough to tell you: I know you.
But it’s hard
You’ll teach them how to fly, but they won’t fly your flight, it will teach you to dream, but you won’t dream your dream, it will teach you to live, but you won’t live your life. However, on every flight, in every life, in every dream, there will always be the mark of the path taught.
Mother Teresa of Calcutta
And it’s not just the lack of sleep, the consequences of childbirth, the care required by a newborn (so small and so demanding!), it’s not even the cocktail of hormones that makes us rebellious until several weeks later.
Neither the lack of experience and uncertainty of whether you are doing things right or not, nor the doubts and comments of well-meaning relatives, but only trigger your own insecurity, your fear.
It’s much more than that. It is the total and sudden break with your own identity, with how, until the moment of birth, you defined yourself: your plans, your ambitions, your work, your friends, your body and everything you call yours. Your time. His life.
It’s looking in the mirror, while the little creature is glued to your chest and doesn’t recognize itself. When did you become that strange woman who doesn’t even have a minute to shower?Who are you now?
That’s still you, just a bigger version of yourself, but at first, you don’t know it. At first you don’t find yourself, there’s nothing that can link your new life of diaper changes, breastfeeding for hours and lullabies, with this other life that seems so distant, the life you went to and you came to when you wanted, you had time and you belong only to yourself.
Because, of course, your whole being now belongs to someone else, and that other being now feeds on you, not only your milk, but also your caresses, your songs, your words, your warmth. And time passes, of course it happens.
The time will come when, almost without realizing it, the feedings will decrease and the hours of night sleep will increase. Your baby will learn to lift his head, to walk around the crib, to crawl.
When you least expect it, he will smile and you will think that all the effort was small. One day he will call you mommy. Will you see him running through the park, climbing the slide, playing with other children, drawing the first letters? That it will proudly display. And, for nothing in this world, you want to change this for what you were before, and you didn’t even know what love was?
Source: Vivian Watson Molina, A New Maternity
Whether we are mothers or children, we can understand that just as it is not in this world that is not wrong, there is no prototype of perfect mother, a mother is a woman with her imperfections and insecurities, but with a great responsibility that she will achieve the best she can.
Fortunately, there are more good mothers than toxic mothers, and the vast majority of us can thank our mothers for giving us the opportunity to live in a wonderful world.
A woman, since she became a mother, has the greatest privilege in the world: that of infinite love, a mother who loves her children will always be wrong, but her love will serve as an impetus for the fruit of her womb to do so. best.
A mother’s heart has grown every day since she had the pleasure of seeing her child raise her head, sit, smile or crawl, because from the first look at her womb, a mother falls unconditionally in love throughout her life.
Because a mother is a larger version of herself and her heart is an infinite universe, despite her mistakes bringing her closer to a mother in the real world, she is the most divine being on the planet.
The worst flaw for mothers is that they die before their children can give back some of what they’ve done for them.
Leaving a sad, guilty and hopelessly orphan. Fortunately, there is only one, because no one would bother to lose it twice.
Isabel Allende