Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Little pink things

Tomorrow I bring another life into this world. Wow, isn't it amazing. While I am scared to death-I am so excited. I started washing all the clothes and just loved seeing all the little pink clothing we have picked up from already having two girls. I love baby girls, but I am biased in that fact.

Amongst the things being washed was a little dress I bought for Afton. Before she was even born I bought her the cutest little pink ruffle teared dress from GAP. Every time I see that dress it brings me back to when Afton was in the hospital. It was my favorite dress and I was so sad she never wore it. Then I had Izzy and thought-yes, the dress will be worn. I think she may have worn it once. For how cute it is, well it needs to be shown off more than that. So this time around it will be shown off. However, that is what I said last time.

So my bag is packed and I am ready to go-well at least I think I am. With Izzy I was worried I would never love a child like I loved my first. Well Izzy of course blew that theory out of the water. So this time around I look at my two beautiful amazing girls who lighten my every morning with their smiles and it makes me so excited we are adding on to this family with another little girl to brighten my morning. How did we get so lucky? I guess Heavenly Father just loves me so much. I am thankful to him and all the wonderful blessings he has given Mauricio and I by giving us the greatest gifts of all of life. I am loved and blessed by my girls and am so excited to meet our little Eleanor tomorrow.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Being A Mom

I know I post one of my own, but man this hit home when I read it. Warning-very emotional!!

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."
"We're taking a survey," she says half-joking.
"Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully
keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on
weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and
stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day
decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children,issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that
restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she
will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to
play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the
belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it
actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Author Unknown