I’ve been
thinking a great deal about motherhood lately. About my own mother, my grandmother
who raised me, and even myself as a mother. About its essence, its challenges,
and its victories. About my oldest, recently 18, who moved out of my home only
to return weeks later (to my relief). About my youngest, recently 13, who strikes
a fragile balance between wisdom beyond her years and naïveté of one much
younger (to my consternation). My
reflection has led me to many conclusions, one of which is motherhood comes with
a lot of . . .
How can I
put this delicately?
Well, it comes
with a lot of stupid shit.
1. Being a
mother makes me special.
Nearly ¾ of
American women have children, according to Gallup.
Now, I may not be a math whiz, but how does being part of the super-super-majority
make one exceptional? This is not to say that being a capable mother is easy or
trivial, but the state of motherhood is in itself the norm.
2. My children are not average.
Average is,
by definition, calculated using the sum total. Every child is exceptional in
some ways . . . and unexceptional in others.
So, stop entering the Mom-Judging
Olympics and let our kids grow up, savoring success and failure equally. We
may discover that even an “average” child is precious.
3. My
children are my life.
The
experience of caring for an infant alters our perspectives: changing soiled diapers,
aspirating snotty nostrils, even producing life-sustaining nutrients from our
bosoms. However, infancy is a temporary state—12 months to be exact. The
average American woman lives approximately
85 years. The average American woman also births 2 children. Theoretically,
those children achieve a certain level of independence by 18. Even if a woman chooses to wait to conceive
one child after the other is 18, less than half of her life is spent in so-called “active
motherhood.” Yet many women focus all of their energy on their children.
They abandon their social lives. They even put significant others on the back
burner. There is no doubt that capable mothers should make personal sacrifices
for their children, but part of being a role model is exemplifying what it
means to be a whole person.
4. Being a
mother makes me a complete woman.
I have a
friend lucky enough to have found her significant other early in life, along
with a career that suits her well. She’s a consummate professional, and one of
the most caring people I’ve ever met in my life. And, she is completely at
peace with planning her future sans children.
Gasp!
I can just
imagine the confused faces and concerned body language she maneuvers in idle
conversations beginning with “So when are you going to have a baby?”. While choosing to
be childless is becoming more common in the US, it’s still a societal
expectation to couple and then procreate (if not at least the other way
around).
Good god,
how could it be that an intelligent, modern woman live a fulfilling life
without birthing bundles of joy?
I suppose
we could just leave it up to those intelligent, modern women to decide.
THE FINE
PRINT: This post is in no way a damnation of mothers, motherhood, or children.
I like most moms and most children. I even love my own. So, calmly remove the stick from your posterior if its contents enraged you.
nice post!
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