I am a Mother

Motherhood:

Where 3” heels are traded in for a comfortable pair of flats that can handle carrying a squirming 25 lb bundle. Professional clothes are traded for yoga pants, schedules of meetings are traded for schedules of feedings, adult interaction and stimulating conversation are traded for gummy smiles, cracker-covered kisses and babbling nonsense. When before you wouldn’t dream going out of the house without a face full of makeup but now the most you can muster on the hard days is running a brush through your 2-day old unwashed hair. Where professional highlights are traded for root grow-out and at-home dye kits. When a hefty salary is traded for a quarter of your previous earnings, and your 3ft co-worker destroys the dining-room-table-at-home-office you created for yourself. When the sounds of your day used to be filled with chatting professionals, ringing phones, and the clicking of keyboards but are now filled with a whining dog (when she isn’t barking), a fussing baby (when he’s hungry) and the vacuum cleaner. When your identity was found in what you could do for your company and how good you were at your job where now your identity is wrapped up in this complicated, frustrating, ever-changing role called “mom” and all your work goes unseen and you feel like a failure daily.

And after all of that, you wouldn’t trade your life or go back to the old one for anything because you realize that raising up a tiny little human to be a contributing member of society and more importantly a passionate lover of Jesus Christ is more precious than heels and makeup and money and accolades and showering every day. And the weight of how lucky you are to be his mother almost knocks you over. And the explosion of love in your heart you feel every time you see his smile, hear his laugh, kiss his squishy face, breath in his innocence, marvel at his perfection, erases the sleepless nights, extra pounds, stretch marks and loss of an old identity. 

I am a mother.