I didn't always know I wanted to be a mother.
I never "loved kids" the way some of my friends claimed to when we were young. I loathed babysitting and camp counseling and all things sticky, smelly, and noisy. I also grew up fast and early and missed many opportunities to be a carefree child and adolescent. Unlike many other young women, I didn't dream of the day I would settle down with a husband and children -- I dreamed of a day when I could live freely and for myself.
I imagined motherhood to be burdensome and joyless.
Many women who grew up with these same experiences and perceptions simply decide not to have children. I could have easily joined their ranks. I was a young woman living the free and unburdened life I had always craved. I was terrified that motherhood would steal my freedom. I was terrified that I would never be able to forgive a child for forcing me to make that sacrifice.
But -- because I am nothing if not inconsistent and somewhat paradoxical -- I never felt like I didn't want to have children.
I'm not sure when the shift started to happen. There was no single ah-ha moment (sorry, Oprah). I didn't have a particularly profound conversation that changed my heart. I didn't read a deep and meaningful book. My friends hadn't started spawning like guppies. I hadn't met someone who suddenly sparked my dormant maternal insticnts.
I think I just started to......unfold.
Bit by bit, I unfolded, and, in the process, I saw parts of myself I had never seen before. Parts that had been confined by fear or, perhaps, simply by the need to experience some freedom and autonomy.
Whatever the reason, my perceptions shifted. And while I wasn't suddenly clamoring to be a kindergarten teacher, I started to consider the possibility that joys and burdens weren't mutually exclusive.
I had been carrying burdens for a long time. Many were handed to me by circumstance, and some I placed upon myself.
None were chosen with love. None brought me joy.
It turns out I was half right about motherhood. It is a burden like no other. But, unlike the other burdens I'd carried in my life, I chose the burden of motherhood. I chose it with love and I carry it with joy.
Because, as it turns out, joys and burdens are NOT mutually exclusive.
Today is my 10th Mother's Day. The burdens have taken different forms over the years -- from long and exhausting births, to endless nursing and sleep deprivation, to fear-filled trips to the hospital for scary medical tests. Someone always needs something. There are always school projects to supervise, clothes to wash, meals to cook, and toothpaste gack to wipe.
Each burden is its own sacrament. An opportunity to express love in its most holy form.
Without these burdens, I would not have the joy of a child's unquestioning love.
Without these burdens, I would not have overheard the whispered plans for how to celebrate Mother's Day. For how to make me happy.
There would not be faces that light up to see me every afternoon.
There would not be that wonderful feeling of a soft, small hand slipped inside mine.
There would not be the slow weekend mornings with sleepy bodies draped over either side of me, pinning me in my bed.
There would be no one bringing me wilted flowers picked from the bush in the front yard.
There would be no one to say "Mom, I will love you forever".
The burdens of motherhood are a little like geodes -- heavy and unadorned at first sight, but full of a surprising and sacred beauty.
I am blessed to carry them.
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