We are sitting at lunch 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 that 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 souffle or her best
crystal without a moment's hesitation.
�
I feel 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 her
discipline to keep from running
home, just to make sure her baby is alright.
�
I want my daughter to know that
everyday 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.
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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 it 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 hope she will understand why I can
think rationally about most issues,
but become temporarily insane when I
discuss the threat of nuclear war to my
children's future.
�
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 a
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 reach across the
table, squeeze my daughter's hand and
offer a silent prayer for her, and for
me, and for all of the mere mortal
women who stumble their way into this
most wonderful of callings.� This
blessed gift from God . . .that of being a
Mother.
�
Please share this with a Mom that you
know or a future Mom you know.
�

�

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