Wilder and Mike = worth it
So there’s this superb blog post all over Facebook about how being a mom is a hard/beautiful thing. As a newbie at the whole mom thing I have to say if you think this ain’t hard either you’re doing something different than me or you’re kind of a liar.
I think being a mom is like many things in life that are hard – worth it. I have noticed in my brief new motherness that to acknowledge the fact that caring for an entire human being (who is literally being nourished by my own body alone) is hard sounds a lot like complaining to some people.
It’s kind of like when you tell an engaged person that marriage is hard and they look at you like “Aaawww, you must have just married the wrong person. Not me. My marriage will be like the good parts of The Notebook.” (FYI there’s a reason they only showed the beginning of their love and the end where the lady has dementia).
I think the problem in saying that something is hard is that today people equate hard with bad. A lot of people would rather stay on the shore and never experience the bliss of the ocean for fear of getting salt water in their eyes.
Marriage and motherhood remind me of that line in A League of Their Own when Jimmy says “the hard is what makes it good! The hard is what makes it great! If it was easy everybody would do it.”
You’re probably thinking at this point that pretty much everybody does get married and have kids. And while I’m still a newbie at both really, I’ll tell you that trying to do it to a certain standard is hard. Trying to be a patient, loving wife (notice I said trying) doesn’t just happen. Trying to be a calm, centered mom doesn’t just happen. It takes work and a momma sized dose of prayer.
But having a solid loved filled juicy marriage is worth more than a crate of new Bumble products. And feeling Wilder breathe on my neck when I snuggle him brings a kind of joy that makes my heart kind of melt and explode all at once (you know the way they snuzzle against you and just sigh and you’re sure in their little baby heart they think aaaaahhh, this is my momma).
When I lay in bed at night next to Mike and know Wilder is sleeping contentedly I find it hard to remember what I was doing all day that was so hard. (Until I get that whiff of spit up on my dirty robe that I forgot to put in the wash.) So while the last thing this world needs is another complaining mom, I think it’s only fair to acknowledge that the efforts it take to raise an entire human being (or more) to be a responsible, compassionate, well fed (at three months old all I have to do is feed, clean and do some tummy time after all) productive person are nothing short of hard. And ridiculously beautiful.