Sometimes, I hate being a mom. I hate the early morning wake up call, the sinking feeling that something’s wrong, the helplessness at not being able to relieve the suffering, the indecision about what treatment to offer and whether or not to seek medical assistance, and the decisions about work, school, child care, and other planned activities.
Something about parental love empowers you to do things that you wouldn’t normally be able to do when a child is sick. Sleep becomes secondary to your child’s needs. Cleaning up a variety of disgusting things is done in a matter-of-fact way, assuring the child everything is going to be fine. Schedules and furniture are re-arranged without apology to provide for comfort and care.
Sometimes I’m convinced that children are God’s character builders. Nothing addresses selfishness, impatience, disorganization, laziness, dishonesty, pride, and lack of self-control better than becoming a parent. For a mom, it starts as soon as you start sharing your body with another being. After birth, you become responsible for the entire care and well-being of another person. Life changes.
I wouldn’t trade my experience as a mom for anything. For all the times it’s been hard, it’s been an extremely rewarding learning experience along the way. I cannot believe the amazing people my children are becoming. As much as I hate the turmoil that comes with the process, it’s worth every minute.