My baby sister is going to have a baby. And although she is not a teenager anymore, I want to fill her in on what is going to happen, how things are going to change….."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 pause thinking that is not just what I want to tell her trying to form the right words in my mind I cannot come out with what I would like 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 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 think of her carefully manicured nails and stylish clothes and think that no matter how much of a pampered princess 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 dish or her best china without a moment’s hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her life, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going off to work and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.I want my sister to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a four year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at Lion's Choice 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.
However decisive she may be at work, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Thinking of my attractive sister, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy (slowly), 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 herself up in a moment to save her child, 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 sister's relationship with Ivan 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 want to describe to my sister 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 puppy for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
Robin’s strange response makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I send my love over the phone, tell her I love her and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
Adapted from an email I received.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."But that is not what I meant at all. I pause thinking that is not just what I want to tell her trying to form the right words in my mind I cannot come out with what I would like 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 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 think of her carefully manicured nails and stylish clothes and think that no matter how much of a pampered princess 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 dish or her best china without a moment’s hesitation.
I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her life, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going off to work and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.I want my sister to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a four year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at Lion's Choice 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.
However decisive she may be at work, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Thinking of my attractive sister, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy (slowly), 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 herself up in a moment to save her child, 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 sister's relationship with Ivan 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 want to describe to my sister 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 puppy for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
Robin’s strange response makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I send my love over the phone, tell her I love her and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.
Adapted from an email I received.
1 comments:
Oh, Beth, this made me cry! It is so true!
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