I was twenty-two, the day love was laid in my arms.
He was 8 pounds 3 ounces – or was it 4? I don’t remember – but what I never shall forget is an awakening in my soul. A person I had never known was born that day – and it wasn’t my firstborn – for as my son entered the world, a new version of me arrived with him.
There’s just something about motherhood.
It unmasks our souls and reveals our vulnerabilities. Yet at the same time, it unveils courage, boldness and a love that is altogether fierce, reckless and unbreakable.
It has the unexplainable ability to duplicate that intense devotion time and time again - no matter how many children a mother brings into this world.
For me, it was four.
Four souls who forever altered mine.
I have known the pain of tears on the second Sunday in May – days with empty arms and empty prayers.
And I have known the tears of exhaustion – when prayers were realized and arms were full and patience short and demands unmet and endless work and...and… and then the years when guilt plagued my mind – knowing all I really wanted for Mother’s Day was to be alone for a few hours.
I have laughed, cried, questioned and learned as a mother more than in any other relationship I’ve known.
And in it I’ve seen the heart of God – a God who loves His children with a fierce and uncontainable passion. A love that cannot be earned…cannot be stopped… cannot be broken nor can it be demanded.
It just is.
And in it I’ve discovered His grace – for though I am imperfect, He allows me the gift of knowing what His love for me feels like – both given and received.
And I am changed.
Can a mother forget her nursing child?