The terror of becoming a mother struck me today. I was overcome with doubts as I watched the children in Montessori playing this morning. Will I be a good mother? Will my children love me? Will I be capable of caring for them? Will I know what to do? I was seriously concerned. I could feel my fear in the pit of my stomach and taste it at the back of my tongue. I was plagued with it all morning.
On the playground, one of the little boys started crying for no apparent reason. I picked him up with the intention of talking to him to see if I could find out what wrong. But when I did, he snuggled into my chest and laid his head on my shoulder. He was just sleepy and wanted rest. He trusted me, someone who is not his mother, to keep him safe and warm as he slept in my arms. As I held him, I could feel his tiny heart beating against my chest. A rhythmic reminder of how precious he is. I was struck by the fragile miracle I held in my arms. I wondered that if he was my son, would his heart be beating in time with mine? The desire for my own children washed over me and cleansed me of my fear. In that moment, I knew I wanted to be a mother, fear and all.
I am ready to be a mom and a wife. I am ready to start a family with a man who loves me. I am tired of living for just me. I am ready for the responsibility of caring for a tiny human. It is still a tad scary, but I know I will have help. I have a wonderful family to help me. I have a gracious God who is always looking out for me. I know it won't be easy, but I can only imagine how wonderful it will be.