We may all have come to motherhood differently, with different expectations, for different reasons. But on the really bad days—the ones that start at 6 AM, after the kids have gotten me out of bed ten times (no exaggerating) during the night, where my patience is threadbare before both children have finished breakfast—in my heart of hearts, I’m afraid that I’m one of those people who should never be a mother.
Really, I know that’s not true. I know that this is what I’m supposed to do, and I’ve always known it. At my high school graduation, they had us fill out a slip of paper with our top three career choices. I put down writer and, after some thought, mother.
As I recall, I couldn’t think of a third.
But even if motherhood hasn’t been the destination you’ve envisioned since high school, you are meant to be a mother. If your arms have ever hungered for a child—if you’ve ever struggled with your children all day, only to miss them the minute they’re asleep—if you’ve ever marveled that this perfect little person, this growing, intelligent, sweet, forgiving child, could be yours—
If you have ever loved your child—
You are meant to be a mother.
