It isn’t easy being a mother! Mother’s Day is a well-deserved holiday. Thanks to its inventor, designer, instigator or whatever you wish to call him or her.
From the time she is made aware there is a life forming inside her. The woman begins to realize the lack of power she has over her own being. Awesome emotions arise in her, hope, fear, love, resentment and happiness. Seesawing feelings put her on the roller coaster ride of her life. Observers may think she’s losing her mind because of her wave-like attitudes and actions.
She feels out of control for a time, because of her unsure up and down moods. Eventually, if she’s lucky, she will settle down to an even keel and ride the waves with ease. Sure she saw the photo of her little one, but it still didn’t feel real. Then, the little being flutters its butterfly wings, or so it feels. She thinks she felt movement in her belly. “No, just my imagination. There it is again! Wow! There is real life in there! Hi Baby, I’m your mother,” she says, tears welling in her eyes.
This is just the beginning of her mother-child relationship. Her instincts cause her to be protective of her most recent charge and her life takes off in lofty, new directions. Pregnancy and motherhood dominate her thoughts and actions. Hopefully, it will be a positive nine-month experience. True, for an occasional woman, this is a less than pleasant time, which is sad because she will miss on to the most exhilarating times in her life. Pregnancy is her opportunity to hold hands with God as this new creation uses her body as its host for growth. She is its cocoon of safety until it is ready to burst forward into new life.
Her back, feet and legs will ache. Her belly gets in the way of tying shoes, cutting toenails and vacuuming under the bed. Sleeping on her stomach will be another sacrifice in the later months. She will outgrow her clothes and be forced to wear styles she will come to abhor. But, still she persists. She is with child. She wonders if she is still attractive to her husband and thinks “not!”
Eventually, the little “miracle” makes its way into the world. More changes! Sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, baby spit up on its clothes and hers, even the furniture is baptized in baby food reject. Her lessons are in patience, charity, forgiveness and hope for better times. For a while, praising God for an occasional good night’s sleep will be her reward for motherhood. Later, the joys of the first steps and the first words, the toothless smiles, the knee hugs and the juicy, face-kisses, help her to know its all worth it-being a mother.
Three years old, becoming a real person At three years, or there about, her youngster learns the power of words. “No!” and “Why?” become her constant companions, the thorn in her side. She begins to believe she has become a Professor of world knowledge, but is ready to retire. Eventually, she learns the “Mothers’ Secret Weapon,” the answer of all answers, “Because I said so!”
Tantrums are the little life-agitations she learns to walk away from. She gets a handle on the art of being deaf to noisy protests.
At five or six years of age, school days bring motherly pride and blessed QUIET. Sanity returns from the 8 to 3 or somewhere around that time. Occasionally, bedtime comes and she can obliterate the responsibility of family life, but before she goes to sleep, she thanks God for them all. She really loves them.
When did I lose control? Just when mother has gained a measure of control on her life and feels good about a job well done, a “strange” teenager emerges. Then the days, of why, whining and tantrums and “No, I won’t!” return from nowhere, just like a bad dream. Rebelliousness, defiance, and resentfulness and daring proclamations become the order of the day. Dutifully, mom chauffeurs this “new creation” to soccer and band practice and an occasional pajama party, then wonders if her trust was justified. She has to reach down into the recesses of her soul to find that youthful, innocent mother of her child’s younger years. She has to relearn the patience, kindness, forgiveness and hope of the three-year-old years.
Prayer is her constant crutch. God learns to recognize her voice again. If her faith is strong she will believe He is listening and may even be able to listen to Him, instead of just shouting for His aid.
The “enemy” seems to be hiding behind the sanctuary of a closed bedroom door most of the time. Once in a while, the sullen, dark face passes by, not speaking. She still loves her child. It’s hard, but she loves this stranger. Somewhere in her mother’s heart, there is a tiny light of hope for better days.
Then high school graduation is on the horizon Better days do come, much later, it seems, but they do come. That wet-face-kisser, that jeans-dragging, body-pierced, money-grabbing humanoid, gradually goes through some miraculous changes, itself. High school is drawing to a close. Thoughts of life after school emerge when the irresponsible roots have been jerked out of the ground. “Whoa, what now?” The question has a sobering effect on this almost adult.
Praise God, praise God. My child must have cleaned out his/her ears, cleared the cobwebs from his/her brain,” mother shouts. Hopefully, this new being will go on to college or learn a trade, marry and produce little humanoids in his/her own likeness, with all the characteristics of his/her own youth.
Mom’s revenge, grandchildren
Then, and only then, Mom, turned Grandma, can cover her smile behind her hand and think “Gotcha!”