Happy Mother's Day

I don’t know why we become mothers. I really don’t. Why would anyone choose to give up a piece of her life to attend to the needs of a helpless being who can’t even fathom the sacrifice let alone be thankful for it? I can’t tell you why I chose to do this other than I knew that I must. Whenever I contemplated backing away, running from the huge commitment looming in my future, a tiny, but unfaltering voice inside me whispered “you will regret it”. That voice was right.

When you wait for a child, you plan for diapers and bottles and 3:00 a.m. feedings. You think about all the terrible things that your parents did and solemnly swear not to make the same “mistakes”. You begin to form philosophies on dating and friendships and you prepare your answers to questions about periods and sex.

And all of that goes out the window the moment your child is placed in your arms. Whatever wisdom you ever gained in this world is gone and you are helpless in the presence of this small human. You operate on an instinct that appears to have no origin. First responders operate on instinct honed by training and years of experience in the job. You’ve had neither and, yet, this child thrives.

When your child begins to articulate her needs and wants and, eventually, asks those questions that you’ve prepared yourself for, you open your mouth but the words that escape are not your carefully-curated answers. They are the words of your mother. The same ones that she spoke to you. The ones you said that you would never repeat but you do; over and over again. And you realize that the instinct you thought was yours was not yours at all. It was her, guiding you all the way; cheering you on just as she always did. She spent your entire life teaching you how to do this. You’ve never once turned back to those parenting books but you’ve called your mother a thousand times to ask for reassurance and she’s always told you, “you’re doing fine momma..keep going”.

As a professional, I write cover letters framing myself as uniquely qualified, I push my staff to reach higher and farther, I encourage them not to short-change their skills and accomplishments. And, yet, if you ask me about my qualifications to be a mother, I will tell you without blinking that I have no idea what I’m doing and I should not be entrusted with the care and keeping of a human life. When people wonder how I do it “all”. I assure them that everything is held together with duct tape and wine and I rarely know what I’m doing from one moment to the next.

When I talk to other moms we never start sentences with “let me tell you about my huge parenting success today”. We always talk about our failures and shortcomings and never acknowledge the wins. We would never let the people in our lives dwell in so much negativity. Why do we give ourselves that permission?

The thing is that parenting is all about the long-game. We often don’t get to see the wins until months or years down the road when our children make a decision that was based on some piece of wisdom that we shared or an example that we set. Those are the big wins. While we wait for them Momma’s, let's give ourselves permission to take joy in the little wins every single day. Celebrate food on the table, clean clothes, and little hands in yours. Celebrate muddy faces and feet and wonder about all the places those little feet will travel one day. Be as kind to yourself as you want your child to be to others. When you need to cry, try not to do it alone. Don’t think that you have to be stronger than all the other mommas. The truth is that we all cry in the bathroom sometimes and we do it there so that no one else will hear us. We need to stop that. Finally, when you open your mouth and your mother comes out, thank her and remember that she spent most of her life getting you here. Thank you momma.