This, is Motherhood.
Just last night, as I sank into my long-awaited bath, ready for some precious “me time,” I heard the unmistakable signs that my little whirlwind (a.k.a. my 2-year-old) was wide awake. First came the thunderous footsteps racing down the stairs, quickly followed by a piercing scream and a loud crash as my energetic toddler crashed through the bathroom door, which I had assumed was safely locked. (I’m beginning to think my 1960s locks have a mind of their own; it’s as if they dissolve at his touch—except, of course, when he manages to lock me out.) In a matter of moments, he catapulted into the tub, sending my cup of tea flying and water splashing everywhere.
This, is Motherhood.
I instinctively lifted him from the hot water, which some might call scalding, and began the awkward task of peeling his wet clothes off his wiggly body. His tears dried up the moment he realized he might join me in the tub. I opened my mouth to reprimand him, to voice my frustration, but then I caught his gaze. His eyes dropped, and his head hung low, as if waiting for me to say “no.” I’d love to say I relented because of some deep emotional instinct, but truthfully, I surrendered to avoid the millionth tantrum of the day.
This, is Motherhood.
Once he was undressed, he began bouncing with excitement. I had to block him from jumping in while I drained the scalding water and replaced it with a warmer, more toddler-friendly temperature that sent chills down my spine. I thought about getting out and letting him bathe solo, but as I stood to leave, he wrapped his little arms around my neck. In that moment, my heartstrings were tugged, prompting me to sit back down and let him perch on my lap.
This, is Motherhood.
As I washed his golden curls, I couldn’t help but notice how much they had grown. Scrubbing his feet reminded me of how they no longer fit in my palm. The last time we shared a bath, he was still small enough to cradle in my arms, but now he’s nearly half my height. As he rested his sleepy head against me, I recalled the molars he was cutting (which surely led to our late-night bath adventure) and the dentist’s words just days prior: “You won’t have to deal with this again for another four years.” In four years, will he still want to take baths with me? How much bigger will he be? Will we have given him a haircut by then? What will he sound like? Who will he become?
This, is Motherhood.
During our bath, my 9-year-old, who has inherited my passion for photography, snapped a picture of us. When I looked at the photo, I didn’t see the chaotic state of my bathroom; instead, I saw a tranquil space where nighttime baths create moments of peace, and I cherish the time spent with my kids. I didn’t notice my messy appearance; I saw a content spirit whose body has accomplished incredible things—foremost among them, nurturing three wonderful souls who I have the joy of watching grow and learn. That, perhaps, is the most rewarding aspect of motherhood.
Motherhood is messy and unpredictable. It’s about being firm yet yielding, sometimes for all the right reasons and other times simply out of sheer exhaustion. It’s a constant cycle of questioning our decisions, wondering if we could have done something differently. Motherhood is the delicate balance of carving out time for ourselves while giving everything we have to our children. It’s a paradox; we often can’t tell if we’re navigating it correctly, so we breathe through the tough moments and inhale the good ones.
This, is Motherhood.
For more insights on the unique journey of motherhood, check out this post on intracervicalinsemination.org. And if you’re interested in home insemination options, Make a Mom offers reliable kits to get you started. For further resources on pregnancy and home insemination, visit Mount Sinai.
In summary, motherhood is a beautiful journey filled with chaos and joy, where every moment counts and every challenge is faced with love.
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