Lately, I've been focusing a lot on the difficulties of young motherhood (as I'm sure you've all probably noticed), and I want to apologize if I've seemed negative...there have been a lot of stresses in my life as of late, and I've allowed some of that to spill over to my writing. Don't get me wrong-I still believe in being open about the realities and struggles of a young stay-at-home mother, and there will probably be many poop stories shared in the future.
However, I have been feeling a strong impression that I need to focus more on the positive in my life--and as I've done so, I've started putting into more tangible terms what motherhood is to me.
Motherhood is the fact that no matter where I go, I have my own personal little fan club--when I walk into any room that my children are in, it's as though the sun has come out-smiles get wider, their hands will reach for me, and I will know that, even if I've only been gone for a couple of seconds, I was missed during the time that I was away.
Motherhood is holding my children and feeling their soft little breaths.
Motherhood is being overwhelmed.
Motherhood is dealing with messes that only trained professionals should have to clean--and yet managing to do so without puking, gagging, or crying (most of the time).
Motherhood is the soft feeling of baby hair on my lips and nose as I breathe in that magical smell and softness of a baby's head that goes away far too soon.
Motherhood is the most perfect, constant motivation to be the very best person I can possibly be.
Motherhood is being completely irreplaceable.
Motherhood is whispered lullabies in the middle of the night, recognizing that although I am too exhausted to be coherent, I am still providing the comfort and security my child needs.
Motherhood is serving those who truly cannot help themselves.
Motherhood is hearing my children laugh and somehow always having to smile in return, even if it is the last thing I want to do in the moment.
Motherhood is hearing my phrases come out of my preschooler's mouth and either wanting to laugh or feel mortified.
Motherhood is the superhuman ability to somehow simultaneously comfort a crying baby, watch a toddler's newest superhero move, fix dinner, clean the kitchen, AND sing a cheerful song, all while tying my preschooler's shoes.
Motherhood is having kisses with magical healing powers.
Motherhood is seeing my own weaknesses more clearly than ever.
Motherhood is giving more of myself than I have to give, and somehow receiving an infinite supply of strength and identity to draw from in return.
Motherhood is tears and whispered prayers.
Motherhood is recognizing that everything I do is watched, noted, and a lasting influence on my children.
Motherhood is dancing like a lunatic in the front room with my children watching and laughing.
Motherhood is feeling that I'm going crazy at least 85% of the time.
Motherhood is hearing my two-year-old sing every verse to "I am a Child of God."
Motherhood is feeling the weight of responsibility of recognizing that I shape how my children see themselves and the world around them.
Motherhood is losing my temper and yelling at my children, repenting mere seconds later and apologizing, only to have Clark say cheerfully, "It's okay, Mom. We still love you."
Motherhood is learning about repentance and forgiveness.
Motherhood is knowing, every moment, that I can change the feeling of my entire home depending on how I choose to feel and act.
Motherhood is an eternal burden, joy, and blessing.
Motherhood is teaching, yearning, loving, crying, laughing, raging, tickling, teasing, sighing, yelling, praying, growing, kissing, singing, hugging, snuggling, feeding, forgiving, changing, cleaning, improving, trying, and repenting.
Sometimes, it can be tempting to think back on my pre-mother years and remember them as more glamorous, free, and exciting than my current life--and it's probably true. My young single-adult/just-married years were fun, and I'm grateful for the experiences I had then. But I was also more self-centered, more indulgent, less apt to help others at my own expense. And I've realized--motherhood is my personal trial by fire--it's how my Heavenly Father is working out my impurities and helping me become the very best person I can possibly be.
Is it a painful process? Heck, yes, it is. But is it worth it?
Absolutely.
However, I have been feeling a strong impression that I need to focus more on the positive in my life--and as I've done so, I've started putting into more tangible terms what motherhood is to me.
Motherhood is the fact that no matter where I go, I have my own personal little fan club--when I walk into any room that my children are in, it's as though the sun has come out-smiles get wider, their hands will reach for me, and I will know that, even if I've only been gone for a couple of seconds, I was missed during the time that I was away.
Motherhood is holding my children and feeling their soft little breaths.
Motherhood is being overwhelmed.
Motherhood is dealing with messes that only trained professionals should have to clean--and yet managing to do so without puking, gagging, or crying (most of the time).
Motherhood is the soft feeling of baby hair on my lips and nose as I breathe in that magical smell and softness of a baby's head that goes away far too soon.
Motherhood is the most perfect, constant motivation to be the very best person I can possibly be.
Motherhood is being completely irreplaceable.
Motherhood is whispered lullabies in the middle of the night, recognizing that although I am too exhausted to be coherent, I am still providing the comfort and security my child needs.
Motherhood is serving those who truly cannot help themselves.
Motherhood is hearing my children laugh and somehow always having to smile in return, even if it is the last thing I want to do in the moment.
Motherhood is hearing my phrases come out of my preschooler's mouth and either wanting to laugh or feel mortified.
Motherhood is the superhuman ability to somehow simultaneously comfort a crying baby, watch a toddler's newest superhero move, fix dinner, clean the kitchen, AND sing a cheerful song, all while tying my preschooler's shoes.
Motherhood is having kisses with magical healing powers.
Motherhood is seeing my own weaknesses more clearly than ever.
Motherhood is giving more of myself than I have to give, and somehow receiving an infinite supply of strength and identity to draw from in return.
Motherhood is tears and whispered prayers.
Motherhood is recognizing that everything I do is watched, noted, and a lasting influence on my children.
Motherhood is dancing like a lunatic in the front room with my children watching and laughing.
Motherhood is feeling that I'm going crazy at least 85% of the time.
Motherhood is hearing my two-year-old sing every verse to "I am a Child of God."
Motherhood is feeling the weight of responsibility of recognizing that I shape how my children see themselves and the world around them.
Motherhood is losing my temper and yelling at my children, repenting mere seconds later and apologizing, only to have Clark say cheerfully, "It's okay, Mom. We still love you."
Motherhood is learning about repentance and forgiveness.
Motherhood is knowing, every moment, that I can change the feeling of my entire home depending on how I choose to feel and act.
Motherhood is an eternal burden, joy, and blessing.
Motherhood is teaching, yearning, loving, crying, laughing, raging, tickling, teasing, sighing, yelling, praying, growing, kissing, singing, hugging, snuggling, feeding, forgiving, changing, cleaning, improving, trying, and repenting.
Sometimes, it can be tempting to think back on my pre-mother years and remember them as more glamorous, free, and exciting than my current life--and it's probably true. My young single-adult/just-married years were fun, and I'm grateful for the experiences I had then. But I was also more self-centered, more indulgent, less apt to help others at my own expense. And I've realized--motherhood is my personal trial by fire--it's how my Heavenly Father is working out my impurities and helping me become the very best person I can possibly be.
Is it a painful process? Heck, yes, it is. But is it worth it?
Absolutely.
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