It is Mother's Day. My first as a Mom of two baby girls. Well, one baby. The other insists that she is a big girl. Regardless of how big she is, she will always be my baby.
This day is supposed to be about celebrating moms. I want to celebrate Motherhood. This crazy adventure fills me up.
Before I was surprised by my first pregnancy, I thought I'd probably have kids. But I wasn't convinced. I was having fun living my life. I was pretty fulfilled and I didn't think anything was missing. Then, I got pregnant. I was excited, and scared, and unsure. But the moment my baby was born, I knew: this was my purpose.
Being a Mama is powerful. As far as I know, there is no other experience that can compare. The profound love for my girls rules every moment of my existence. Most of the time, it is a complete joy. Sometimes, the power of that love causes incredible pain. When my child hurts, sometimes I think I feel the pain more deeply than she does.
Purpose. My girls give my life purpose. And when I talk to other Mamas, they feel the same about their kids. Raising beautiful souls from the moment they are conceived leads me to believe there is no greater task. Protecting them, teaching them, guiding them, playing with them, holding them, loving them with all my being- that is my purpose.
So on Mother's Day, when they celebrate me, I celebrate them. I am blessed and grateful. They will never know the power of my love for them, unless, someday, they have children of their own.
