What I feel about becoming a mother for first time

I will become a new Mom on September. I will deliver a baby girl whom my husband and I will call Esther.

At this moment I am experiencing one of the most mysterious, amazing and incredible things a human can live, specially a female. I am pregnant with a child, a living creature who is growing inside me, feeding from me and moving inside me; she is a creature whom in nine months will come out of my body, will keep growing and will totally depend on me. And as far as I can tell you, this is a extreme experience.

Up to this moment, it’s still so difficult and incomprehensive for me to understand the love a mother feels (I guess I will only know that when I get my baby with me, maybe that day I will understand it). The strength with a mother loves it is almost inexplicable, and sometimes that makes me think if I would ever feel that same way (which until now I think I won’t).

In order to understand it, sometimes I ask my Mom how it feels to be a mom, and when she gives me her whole explanation I stay in awe. She tells me “a mother does everything to her child. Even when I’m tired, I am willing to serve all of you. Everything I do is with love and I never feel tired to do it”. When she finished giving me that explanation, I just say to myself, “uff that’s impossible, how she can love that way, how is that she doesn’t feel tired, I do get tired when she ask me several things to do”, but she says “that’s how it is. You don’t feel tired with your children; you do everything with enthusiasm and love”.

As a conclusion I want to share with you a story I found on internet about the explanation of a mother to her daughter about what it feels to become a new mom. When I read it, I felt very overwhelmed with it and really loved it. I hope you like it.

“We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family.” “We’re taking a survey,” she says half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”

“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.”

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.

I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, “What if that had been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.

I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby’s sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at McDonald’s will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.

That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My daughter’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.

I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.

I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.

I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time.

I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. “You’ll never regret it,” I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter’s hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mom that you know or all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.”


http://www.tickld.com. (s.f.). tickld. Recuperado el 7 de Julio de 2015, de http://www.tickld.com/x/mom-gives-best-explanation-ever-how-life-changes-after-pregnancy


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