The truth is—

motherhood is f*cking hard.

There are people,
and there are mothers.

People do meditation for an hour or less,
mommies do meditation
24/7—
when it goes right,
when it goes wrong—
they scream and shout
and cry and die
to their own agenda
every single day.

The truth is—

motherhood is the hardest job on this planet,
yet not even those who took it,
really see that:
those who cook, clean, wipe dirty bums, run to to toilet and back,
wake up at night and then again much too early,
those who never get to lay in,
not even on Sundays,
those who are constantly tired and sometimes stifled by their despair,
those who drown their dreams for the sake of
that beautiful face
those glowing eyes of wonder.

“How can 98 cm challenge me that much?”

The truth is—

I love my baby.
I love her
even when it’s hard,
and when she flings her tiny arms around me
and asks me: “mama sad?”
and then goes to get me water,
“cause wata good for evyting.”
I love her
when she brings me my guitar,
almost twice as big as her
just so I can play and she can dance,
when she wants to wear her swimming ring
in a bathtub with three inches of water,
when she insists on brushing her teeth
10 times a day
and then beams her brightest smile at me.

“Look!” she screams
and I can only see
the truth and mystery
of why that job
that I call motherhood
was never meant to be a job.

It is a calling for the strong ones—

for those ready to be tossed and turned
for those able to become
the greatest of themselves,
those who can be broken and then
be opened by an urge
to love
so deeply
that it cuts away the pain.

Relephant: 

What No one Told me About Motherhood.

 

Author: Dara Meubrink

Editor: Khara-jade Warren

Image: Matteo Bagnoli/ Flickr