Mothers have been romanticized in poetry, songs and movies. That romanticism can get in the way of reality. Well, it did for me. Nothing prepared me for motherhood other than the example my mother was to me. How lucky was I to have a woman who dedicated herself to her family in every way? She tended to us the way she tended to everything; she was loving, careful, present, giving, proud, selfless.
When my first was born, an overwhelming need to protect and hold her came over me. It was a life-changing moment: nothing was more important than her. Was that instinct? Was it my mother's transferring of roles? I truly don't know. My confidence grew paralleled with my child's growth. Her joy was more rewarding than anything else. Pregnant with my second, I was wondering how I could possibly care for another child like my first.When my son was born, I discovered how the heart can be a bottomless source of love. I had been blessed with two healthy, pretty happy kids. My place in this world became defined.
There have been many changes, ups and downs in my life. I hope that I've kept my children's needs front and center most of the time. I hope that they will see that my life was about them, decisions were made to keep their lives as healthy and stable as I could. No one is perfect and no one can be 100% to another being all the time. As a mother, I've learned that unconditional love is forgiving and must be respected by both parent and children. It is perennial and does not end at age 18. I will plant a perennial this year, in honour of my motherhood to keep that bond in focus. I love Asters, that may be the one.
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