I know what you’re thinking. Here’s another preachy new parent about to tell me how her kid changed her life. Believe me, I thought the same thing. When our friends came over, zealous gleams in their eye, laden with babies, diaper bags, strollers, infant seats and other tonnage, my husband and I cringed.
Then something happened. Maybe it was turning 30, then 31. Where I used to love my fast-paced advertising job, now I found myself daydreaming of motherhood in production meetings. I had gotten where I wanted to be in business. I’d even picked up a Master’s degree, yet something was missing.
Where I once viewed moms and housewives as hopelessly dull, I found myself studying them in supermarkets, at get-togethers… everywhere. How nice, I thought, to have a child look up adoringly at you, not to mention getting to watch Mary Poppins again. Slowly I began to realize something. I wanted to be a Mom.
About a year after this realization my husband and I were blessed with a baby boy. For some reason I assumed that upon having a child I’d see a celestial light circling my head like a woman in a Renaissance painting. But the dramatic transformation never came.
Instead, the difference shows in little things. I don’t mind being woken at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday or doing everything with one hand while my son, Patrick, squirms in the other. I never thought I’d rejoice over a kid’s day-late bowel movement or not mind having every piece of clothing I own stained with formula.
My son shows me life is good, there’s hope. Perhaps he’ll find a cure for cancer or a peaceful solution to war. Maybe he’ll just be a good husband and father. Watching the happy faces of my family as they play with him is more than enough to make me proud.
I’m thankful for my time in the business world. I made great friends and learned a lot. Someday I may go back. But one thing is certain. I won’t be the same and that’s what I like about being a Mom.