The Mother In Me

I've know I wanted to be a mother since the day I was born.

Well probably not since the day I was born. That's a little extreme. But from the time I first knew what a mother was. Or maybe since I realized that I possessed the genetic makeup to be a mother.

Regradless, its been a long time. I've always felt like motherhood was for me.

As a young girl I loved children. I loved playing house and naming all my babies. My cousins, sisters and I spent countless hours "being the mommy" and carrying around our babies. Even as a teen I loved children. I even worked in a daycare.

I was going to have 12 children. I remember thinking that when I was about 10 years old. Naturally this was before I had an inkling as to what morning sickness was, had never heard of a nursing bra, forgot that I'd need a husband up for such a feat and didn't realize that for a family of that size I would need at least 2 cargo vans for our transportation.

And part of me thinks I would love to have 12 children (12 "I love you mommy's, etc) , there are other parts of me that don't think I could handle it. My uterus for example.

I have basically always wanted children. Wanted to be a mother. I thought mothering would be so wonderful. Naming, dressing and playing with children all day. What could be better?

And even though, back then I was still a bit hazy on the finer things associated with parenting (hissy fits, sippy cups full of mold behind the couch, stretch marks and time outs) I think I hit the nail on the head.

There is very little better than mothering.

But not exactly for the reasons I had first thought. Sure, there are wonderful moments, magical moments created with our babies, late night snuggles with our newborns. But parenting is hard work. And it's not glamorous. We don't often get the support we need. We struggle with mother's guilt and sometimes feel that we need to keep up with the Jones'. Children sass back and our best laid plans are trampled on. We must face our shortcomings because they are so often revealed to us as we attempt and fail at being perfect parents.

But there is good that is brought forth from the hurt that parenting sometimes brings. There is meaning in the mudane, purpose behind the potty training and a peace that comes from learning to calmly deal with a tantruming toddler in Target.

Having children is worth it. William and I love having our family.

But I don't love the dirty diapers, the sleepless nights, the cracked nipples, the endless whining. I don't love it for the dings and marks on our walls or the screeching down the hall.

I love it in spite of all that. I love mothering for how wading through all the difficulites that mothering brings, transforms me for the better.

Mothering is one of the toughest things I've ever done.

And it's totally worth it.