It is worth it. Yes, it is the most powerful experience that a woman can live. Yes, nothing marks you as much as the moment when you finally hold in your arms the son who has just come out of you, deliciously dirty, wet, hot, and looks you in the eye as if to say: I know you.
You will teach to fly, but they will not fly your flight. You will teach to dream, but they will not dream your dream. You will teach to live, but they will not live your life.
However … in each flight, in each life, in each dream, the mark will always remain. of the taught way.
Mother Teresa of Calcutta
But it is hard.
And it’s not just about lack of sleep, the consequences of childbirth, the care required by a newborn (so tiny and so demanding!), Not even the hormone cocktail that leaves you turulet until several weeks later.
Neither the lack of experience and the uncertainty about whether you are doing it right or not, nor the own doubts and comments of well-intentioned family members that only trigger your own insecurity, your fear.
It is much more than that. It is the total and sudden rupture with your own identity, with what until the moment of giving birth had defined you: your projects, your ambitions, your work, your friends, your body, and everything that you called yours. Your time. Your life.
It is looking at yourself in the mirror while your little creature is attached to your chest, and not recognizing you. At what point did you become this haggard woman who doesn’t even have a minute to take a shower? Who is she? Who are you now?
You’re still you, just a bigger version of yourself. But at first you don’t know. At the begining you do not find yourself. There is nothing that manages to link this new life of yours with diaper changes, boobies and nursery rhymes, with that other life that seems so remote, the one where you came and went as you pleased, you had your time and you belonged to yourself .
The time will come when, without realizing it, the shots will shorten and the hours of nighttime sleep will lengthen. Your baby will learn to hold his head, then roll over, then crawl.
The least expected day will give you a smile and you will think that all the effort has been little. One day mom will tell you. You will see him run in the park, go up the slide alone, play with other children, scribble the first letters that will show you proud. And for nothing in the world will you want to exchange yourself for that other one that you were, and who knew so little about love… ”
Because, of course, your whole being is now for someone else. And that other one is feeding on you, not only on your milk, but also on your caresses, on your songs, on your words, on your warmth. Time goes on, of course it goes on
Because that’s just the beginning …
Whether we are mothers or children we can come to understand that just as there is no being in this world that does not comment on errors, there is no prototype of a perfect mother. A mother is a woman with her imperfections and insecurities, but with a great responsibility who will perform the best she knows how.
Luckily, there are more good mothers than toxic mothers, and the vast majority of us can thank our mothers for giving us the chance to live in a wonderful world.
A woman, from the time she becomes a mother, comes to possess the greatest privilege in the world, that of infinite love. And it is that when a mother who loves her children she will always make mistakes, but her love will serve as an impulse so that the fruit of her womb gets to do the impossible.
A mother’s heart grows every day since she has the pleasure of seeing her son hold his head, turn around or crawl. Because, from the first look at her belly, a mother falls unconditionally in love for life.
Because a mother is a bigger version of herself and her heart is an infinite universe. Even though her mistakes bring a mother closer to the real world, she is the most divine being on the planet.
The worst defect that mothers have is that they die before one gets to pay them back for what they have done.
They leave one helpless, guilty and inevitably orphan. Luckily there is only one. Because no one would bear the pain of losing her twice.