Me, earlier this week, texting my friends, chirping away about all the worries we carry around with us, with our kids, even as they are mostly grown:
“I wish someone had sat me down and really spelled it out to me that this mom/worry thing is a lifetime appointment.“
Twenty-seven years ago, when I was deep in slumber:
Guardian Angel – Hi dear, I hear you bringing up the whole “starting up a family thing” a lot with your husband lately.
Me – Yep, I’m ready. If not now, then when? It’s baby time!
Guardian Angel – Okay, I’m sitting you down right now (even though you are sleeping) and I am making this really, really clear: A baby is a lifetime appointment.
Me – You mean like being a Supreme Court Justice?
Guardian Angel – No, because even Supreme Court Justices can retire. You will never ever, ever, ever, retire from being a mom, and thus, you will always be, at the very least, a slightly worried person, at all times.
Me – That’s fine! I’ve got this. I want a BIG family.
Guardian Angel – BIG families are full of BIG joy. But they are also full of BIG responsibilities and BIG worries. The worry part will be with you from the moment you put your precious little bundle into the car seat to go home from the hospital until the very moment it is time for you to leave this Earthly plane. It will never fully go away. Try to live in Faith, dear, but also understand that with just one baby “Worry” becomes your middle name for the rest of your life. It just comes with the package of being a mother of other human beings on this Earth. Am I making myself perfectly clear? Look at your mother, look at your mother’s mother, your father’s mother, your friends’ mothers, that woman at the grocery store with all of those kids hanging off of the cart? What do you see? Worriers! Frazzled worriers!!
Me – I got it. I got it. Okay! Don’t worry, GA. I’ll be a warrior, not a worrier. Isn’t that how the saying goes? I’ve got this. I’m easy going. Plus, I know you’ll be with me through the whole gig.
Guardian Angel – Okay, if I help you, with getting a little soul in place for you to mother, I’m going to need you to sign right here, stating that you fully understand that with each child, you will feel an incredible love like you have never felt, and it will be eternal, but the price of that love will be a little dollop of worry that will be on perma-drip in your brain for the rest of your life. Sign under the part that says, “I, in good sound mind and body, fully understand that the minute I become a mother, I will be worried for the rest of my life, to my last dying breath. I cannot have a child and not be worried. It’s a package deal. Sign here.”
Me, signs quickly, with perhaps not the amount of reflection that would have been prudent, but hey, I was young and my hormones were raging and my maternal urges were on fire. And each of the four times that I signed on that dotted line, were (besides marrying my husband) the best decisions that I have ever made in my entire life. (even with the constant flow of worry perma-dripping in the canals of my mind, even as I write this silly post.)
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.