Today call me a mother.
Today call me a mother; which means of course I’ve embraced the joys and uncertainties, the fear and faith that attends the title. Motherhood is a gift beyond words, a challenge that bears a name but no fair or complete description.
In its sharpest distillation, parenting calls us to love our children fiercely and to just as fiercely hope that despite our flaws, they’ll recognize the love and take it with them.
I wrote a version of these words in a post for my friend Cheryl Rosenberg from Mommypants and she’s graciously allowed me to bring them home.
So They Will Know
Motherhood can feel like one long string of mistakes, a jumbled mouthful of “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry for the sighs I’ve heaved and for the rolling of my eyes. I’m sorry I’ve wished my children would just “be quiet” and that I have, at times, longed for their silence rather than their words.
I’m sorry for expecting my daughter would love reading and my son would love team sports. For requiring more from her than kindness; more from him than originality.
I’m sorry I’ve imagined them grown and gone and in the next breath hoped they might never leave.
I’m sorry they cannot crawl inside me and know the vastness of my love for them. That on the outside, I sometimes get it wrong.
I’ve tried to pinpoint the moment I knew I was the right mother for these children, the moment I proved my worthiness. But I can’t help thinking motherhood is an ongoing battle. That sometimes, I’m my own worst enemy.
Our first baby was unplanned. Not unwanted, but conceived before the ink had dried on our marriage license. Still. I was hopeful. I dreamed of holding a bald-before-blond, blue-eyed baby girl. I imagined forgiving her for making me so very tired.
Instead, my son came early. Already impatient with life, with me. He was wrinkled and red, a thatch of black hair protruding from a skull still pinched and molded by our first separation.
It is too soon. I am not ready.
When the nurse told me we were released, my words tumbled over each other.
“We can’t leave,” I said. “He’s crying.”
“Babies cry,” she said. I wasn’t comforted.
We placed him in his nursery still strapped into the car seat. We huddled in our dark bedroom wondering. Is this what we’re supposed to do? It didn’t feel right. We moved him into our bed, a tiny squirming bundle set between us.
“I can’t believe my parents loved me this much,” I said. I stroked his dark head, wondered where it had come from. “I don’t ever want to be away from him.”
He can stay here, we agreed. For tonight.
Eight weeks later, I taught my baby boy to cry himself to sleep as the books instructed.
I nursed him. I swaddled him. I put him in his crib. I let the water run in our shower so I wouldn’t hear him. He protested for three nights. On the fourth, he slept.
And I worried I’d gotten it wrong again. That at two months old, my son believed I wouldn’t be there for him when he needed me.
It is too soon. I am not ready.
So we cried and smiled together. We were by turns both joyful and afraid. And when we welcomed his bald-until-blond, blue-eyed sister, she was patient. With me. With life.
This time, I thought, I will get everything right.
Except I didn’t. I still don’t.
Love for my children crowds almost every part of me. But in the empty spaces, other emotions sneak in. Doubt. Disappointment. Guilt. Frustration. Mother-love is supposed to be unconditional, instinctive, perfect.
And yet.
Today I’ll roll my eyes. And sigh. Wish my children would be quiet. I’ll be annoyed at the clothes piled on her floor, at the toothpaste smeared in his sink.
But I will also be awash with love for them. I’ll try my best. I’ll teach them to say ‘I’m sorry,’ too.
I will listen.
And if I hear my babies crying themselves to sleep?
I will wrap myself around them in the darkness of their rooms. I will stay until they trust that I will be there for them always and there’s nothing more they’ll ever need to know.
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Featured Post: Today call me a mother.
Today call me a mother; which means of course I’ve embraced the joys and uncertainties, the fear and faith that attends the title. Motherhood is a gift beyond words, a challenge that bears a name but no fair or complete description.
In its sharpest distillation, parenting calls... Read more
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62 Comments to Today call me a mother.
by Annabelle
On November 2, 2011 at 7:19 am
I loved this so much!
I’ve deleted the last 5 things I’ve tried to say to convey how this post made me feel. I fail every time.
This was just too right, too perfect.
Love!
by Leanne Shirtliffe
On November 2, 2011 at 7:38 am
You captured it. Beautiful.
by MommaKiss
On November 2, 2011 at 7:43 am
oh holy lord above, your words, they are incredibly beautiful and too true. the truth about their growth, that hurts. i don’t want them ever to leave. but they will! god only knows if i’ll have taught them enough to live well without me.
by Cheryl @ Mommypants
On November 2, 2011 at 7:53 am
Oh, Julie, my heart aches for you today. Hold your kids close – I know you already do.
xoxo
by Kate
On November 2, 2011 at 7:56 am
This is everything I always want to say but can’t seem to force out the right way. Stunning.
(Also, might-be-stolen-soon. To keep in my pocket, for quick reference during my next complaint, guilt overwhelm, or am-I-doing-this-right moment.)
by Poppy
On November 2, 2011 at 7:57 am
I am so glad you reposted this here because I didn’t see it at Cheryl’s place. My kids are too because I might not beat them today when I see toothpaste in the sink.
by The New Cinders
On November 2, 2011 at 8:17 am
I can remember thinking and feeling exactly the same way – and in my head it looks like me staring at a tub of Sudocream wondering how on Earth I could possibly take responsibility. I thought it was just me who felt like this as I was so young – and I was warmed and relieved to know others felt the same way. This is a beautiful post. Thank you
by Hollye Dexter
On November 2, 2011 at 8:21 am
This is absolutely gorgeous. You are a stunning writer, and a stunning woman.
The mere fact that you question yourself and try to do better is what makes you a wonderful mother. If only all our mothers had been so attuned.
xo
by KLZ
On November 2, 2011 at 8:25 am
Mother-love is so big. I think that’s why the guilt hurts so much – it expands to fill the bigness of your love.
by KLZ
On November 2, 2011 at 8:25 am
Also, you are submitting this BlogHer, yes? Because it is perfect.
by Julie
On November 2, 2011 at 8:39 am
I’d say something relevant but I’m fighting back the weepies hard.
So, I’ll just say thank you.
by Krista
On November 2, 2011 at 8:48 am
Oh my heavens, this is beautiful. I wish I had more words, but yours are just perfect.
by Di
On November 2, 2011 at 8:53 am
You got it right not once but twice. Watching you be a mom has been wonderful for me. Having been there since the beginning you have grown as they have grown. XXXOOO
by Tonya
On November 2, 2011 at 9:29 am
So beautiful! I’m crying. Your words are so amazing and so so true.
Thank you for putting into words how I feel all the time.
by Amanda Austin
On November 2, 2011 at 9:37 am
Here’s a secret: I’m terrified of my child growing up. Sometimes I get frustrated — last night when he woke up at 12:30 and nothing would calm him down but me and my arms and a rocking chair — but I held him and kissed him and all I could think was that someday he won’t need me. Time is going WAY, WAY too fast.
As always, thanks for sharing these beautiful words…you’ve touched my heart with them!
by Mad Woman behind the Blog
On November 2, 2011 at 10:02 am
Hello. Where was the “by the way, you’re gonna want to grab a tissue” warning?
And yes, these words of yours are so very beautiful. Thank you so much for posting them here.
Sigh.
by Cathy
On November 2, 2011 at 10:50 am
Beautiful!!! Brought tears to my eyes.
by cousin Heidi
On November 2, 2011 at 11:18 am
I don’t think that I can say anything different that any of these wonderful people have already said about this beautiful post, except that your children and Bill are so lucky to have you in their lives.
by Jessica
On November 2, 2011 at 1:06 pm
Such true words about motherhood. We wish some of the small moments would stop when the kids are being too loud or we are frustrated but at the same time we wouldn’t have it any other way.
by Lisa
On November 2, 2011 at 2:06 pm
Thank you for sharing these incredibly beautiful words, Julie. I know I will reread them often.
by Missy | The Literal Mom
On November 2, 2011 at 2:58 pm
I’m bawling. This is the most beautiful, accurate portrayal of being a mother I’ve ever seen. You nailed it. And it’s on a day when I’m struggling with how to communicate with one of mine – I’m feeling ALL of those emotions today. Thank you for helping me feel like I’m not the only one.
by Yuliya
On November 2, 2011 at 3:01 pm
I remember bits and pieces of this from the first reading and it is just as gorgeous today.
And even though they can’t quite crawl inside of you to see your love for them they can pull up a seat right beside you when they become old enough to make sense of these words on the computer screen.
by Phase Three of Life
On November 2, 2011 at 4:54 pm
You captured this beautifully… the struggle between being imperfectly human yet having such a perfect love residing in us.
by Suniverse
On November 2, 2011 at 5:16 pm
So beautiful.
I’ve always felt I was doing it wrong. All of it. That it’s never been enough.
But it is. It really is. They know. And they feel it.
by Renee Schuls-Jacobson
On November 2, 2011 at 5:33 pm
You slay me.
by Jamie
On November 2, 2011 at 6:00 pm
I spend too many nights feeling guilty… replaying the day in my head. My short nerves, my quick to judge, my even quicker to speak nasty. I just wish I could be what I want to be and still feel like I’m doing something right. It’s so sad and so hard to know that by the time I know whether or not I did anything right they will be gone.
by Kelley
On November 2, 2011 at 7:34 pm
You are killing me over here! I’ve got tears in my eyes. I do too much eye rolling. Thank you for reminding me to cherish my moments with them!
by CDG
On November 2, 2011 at 8:05 pm
Oh, Julie. Just oh, Julie.
by SueL
On November 2, 2011 at 8:07 pm
Just beautiful Julie. You nailed it! Being a parent is so tough, but it is a wonderful ride <3 Sue
by My Inner Chick
On November 2, 2011 at 8:15 pm
~I’m sorry I’ve imagined them grown and gone and in the next breath hoped they might never leave.~
Julie, this was breathtakingly beautiful. Xx
by Kimberly
On November 2, 2011 at 9:31 pm
This was beautifully perfect. I am absolutely terrified of my kids growing up. I see it in my oldest already and it shakes me to the core.
by Chase McFadden
On November 2, 2011 at 9:57 pm
Wow.
Why is so much of parenting feeling guilty?
(Exasperated sigh.)
by Janie Fox
On November 3, 2011 at 2:56 am
A mother’s love is so big and so hard at times. It is a job that never ends. It is the best at times and the worst at times. It is one I would never want to have missed. Your children are blessed by you. Loved this post.
Have your ever read the children’s book Love You Forever. It is my most fave. It is about a little boy becoming a man. It is about the love of a mother and how it crosses the generations. It says “I’ll love you forever, “I’ll like you for always, As long as I am living my baby you’ll be.” It makes me cry every time I read it to a little one.
by tracy@sellabitmum
On November 3, 2011 at 4:12 am
Wow. So perfectly captured…also damn toothpaste globs and laundry 2″ from the basket – but that is usually left by my husband and not my kids.
by Mel
On November 3, 2011 at 6:04 am
This is so touching and beautiful, just the way I feel so many times as a momma – wanting to get it perfect, but the road there is so curvy and hard to follow sometimes.
by Katie
On November 3, 2011 at 7:21 am
I remember reading this at Cheryl’s place.
It touched my heart so much because…yes.
Motherhood is feeling all emotions at the same exact moment.
It’s weird, heartbreaking, and wonderful.
And I agree with KLZ, submit this to BlogHer. Please.
by Shell
On November 3, 2011 at 7:43 am
I love this! So beautiful and honest.
by Amanda
On November 3, 2011 at 7:45 am
Such fluency in the bittersweet.
by gigi
On November 3, 2011 at 7:45 am
As always, you have a way of perfectly describing the rollercoaster that is motherhood. Our failings and achievements are all an important part of the journey.
xoxo
by Kate
On November 3, 2011 at 7:46 am
Just beautiful. And the thing that gets me most: the books don’t teach you how to love them right. And as new mothers we fall into the trap of being scared our instincts are somehow wrong and the how-to books are right.
by Erin Margolin
On November 3, 2011 at 7:55 am
how do you do this every time?
i needed this today. i am in tears at the computer. cry it out is so hard, but you have to do it. i know it will be hard when it’s time, but…i did it w/ my twins and will do it with Piper when it’s time….
love you, Julie. you rock!
by Sherri
On November 3, 2011 at 8:47 am
Oh Julie, this is just so very beautiful…and so true.
How do we ever know we did it all right?
I’m not sure that any of us do. But we keep doing it because that’s what we do. And for the love of those kiddos.
Loved this.
by liz
On November 3, 2011 at 10:19 am
I’m no good with mushy stuff, but of course I think you have any amazing way of articulating what we all feel.
And when my child wakes up screaming at 4 in the morning because she wants to go to school(?!?!), I’ll think of you.
by The Flying Chalupa
On November 3, 2011 at 11:12 am
I loved this when I first read it, of course, but now it occurs to me that what you’re saying is I’m not going to get everything right with my second? Is that what you’re saying? Nah!
Yes, we are our own worst enemies, for sure. I wish I could take inner-critic out with a taser sometimes. But that would hurt.
by Lady Jennie
On November 3, 2011 at 11:15 am
This brings tears to my eyes. It captures the feelings of a mother so perfectly.
by Nichole
On November 3, 2011 at 2:28 pm
Beautiful then, and beautiful now, Julie.
I’m so happy to see this post here…as a part of the larger whole.
So lovely!
by Theresa Sonoda
On November 3, 2011 at 6:40 pm
Love Love Love this. Soooo beautiful, Julie. You’re amazing.
by Ally
On November 3, 2011 at 7:41 pm
What a beautiful post!
by Hopes@Staying Alfoat!
On November 3, 2011 at 9:28 pm
This? This is breathtakingly beautiful! You have such amazing talent for writing! I’m in absolute AWE!
by Megan (Best of Fates)
On November 4, 2011 at 7:15 am
So very beautiful! You are a fabulous mom.
by By Word of Mouth Musings
On November 4, 2011 at 12:44 pm
You will have to do a quarterly rendition of this post – its one we all need and love!
by Grumpy Grateful Mom
On November 5, 2011 at 8:08 am
Such a beautiful post! I could very much relate to what you were saying, though I couldn’t have written it so eloquently.
by Missy @ Wonder Friend
On November 5, 2011 at 12:05 pm
I’m sorry I’m so late to read this. For one, I miss reading your posts when I don’t get around the blogosphere for few days, but also because you managed to put my heart into words. Like so much of life, mothering is contradictions and second guesses and miraculous moments.
Beautifully said, as always, Julie.
by Jessica
On November 5, 2011 at 5:19 pm
This is beyond beautiful Julie. I read it twice before commenting and want to go back and read it again. I could relate to all of the feelings you put into these words. So perfect.
by Ilana
On November 5, 2011 at 6:13 pm
Oh Julie, I don’t even know what to say— I want to say this is “beyond beautiful” but I see those are the words that Jessica used above me. You really have a way with words, my friend. You have a way of making the trials and tribulations and mistakes and missteps of motherhood all sound so wonderfully PERFECT.
ROCK ON.
by John
On November 7, 2011 at 8:48 am
Julie? This is truly beautiful.
And my list of “I wonder if I’m doing this right” is significant. Truly significant.
I think the term “parent” is synonymous with “worried that you’re not doing it right.”
by kim
On November 7, 2011 at 9:23 am
crying…again. so beautiful. love you.
by Galit Breen
On November 8, 2011 at 2:16 pm
Julie, this is stunning.
And heart wrenching.
But mostly stunning.
xo
by Charlene Ross
On November 8, 2011 at 2:52 pm
Wow… this was so gorgeous. Every time I read your words I think they are even more beautiful than the time before. Julie, Julie, Julie – if only I could write like you. You express yourself so beautifully. (And thank all that is holy and good that I’m not the only one who wishes they’d be quiet!) You put my exact thoughts to words in a way that I never could. You truly do leave me breathless and in awe. (Sorry, I think I’m starting to droll a bit!) But WOW (did I already say wow? I really loved this post.)
by Kali
On November 9, 2011 at 6:47 am
This is beautifully worded. I can not wait for the day when I also have these feelings and are able to care for my own little buddle of joy. Having doubt in parenthood only means you’re human. We all wish for the perfect child but there is no such thing they are perfect in their own way. Crying us to sleep and all.
by Erin I'm Gonna Kill Him
On November 20, 2011 at 8:56 pm
I read this the first time, but was bowled over again.
It’s really a tribute to all of these kids we love.
by Kim
On September 27, 2012 at 12:30 am
Oh, Julie, I love this! just excellent. and at that, I’ll go get my one year old who’s waking up in the middle of the night.
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