Just me a MOM..

Preemie life and Depression through my eyes.

Mothers

Posted by Jenn on May 10, 2007

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night
with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf
laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid
saying, “It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here.”

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end
soothing crying babies who can’t be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with
spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their
blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make
cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the
mothers who DON’T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies
they’ll never see. And the mothers who took those
babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on
metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead
of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that
when their kids asked, “Did you see me, Mom?” they
could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for
the world,” and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids
in the grocery store and swat them in despair when
they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream
before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to
ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their
children and explained all about making babies. And
for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just
couldn’t find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their
children can eat. For all the mothers who read
“Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. And then
read it again. “Just one more time .”

This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to tie their shoelaces before they started
school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro
instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to
cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns
automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a
crowd, even though they know their own offspring are
at home — or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to
school with stomach aches assuring them they’d be
just FINE once they got there, only to get calls
from the school nurse an hour later asking them to
please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray,
who can’t find the words to reach them.

This is for all the step-mothers who raised another
woman’s child or children, and gave their time,
attention, and love… sometimes totally unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school
shootings, and the mothers of those who did the
shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers
who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging
their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home
safely from a war.
What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience?

Compassion?

Broad hips?

The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a
button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or
daughter disappear down the street, walking to
school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from
bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back
of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M.
when you just want to hear their key in the door and
know they are safe again in your home?

Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug
your child when you hear news of a fire, a car
accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our
thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through
diaper changes and sleep deprivation. ..

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without. This is for
you all. For all of us. Hang in there. In the end we
can only do the best we can. Tell them every day
that we love them. And pray.

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