When a woman becomes pregnant with her first child, she becomes confused with emotion. Part of her prepares for the labor, part of her prepares for motherhood, and the rest of her just desires to sleep. People swarm her, rubbing her belly, asking ordinary questions, and telling her how magical and amazing it is to be pregnant and have a baby. She smiles out of courtesy, and then walks away to go about the rest of her day. As her belly grows throughout the months, as her bladder and emotions become big, as she discovers new and weird bodily functions she never knew existed, she begins to worry and become consumed with the fear of birth and motherhood.
There are so many strange things about becoming a mother. Not everything is so beautiful and magical, but there are so many weird, terrifying, and disgusting aspects that encircle motherhood. Motherhood is not always magic; motherhood is gross, motherhood is complicated, motherhood is a life sacrifice, but motherhood is fulfilling, that is, if you can get over the terror of reality, a dose of toxic truth, and an over dose of baby blues.
Oh the glorious bodily function that spews out of ones mouth. As an adult one can control where they spew, as a small child, one spews all over the thing or person that is closest to them. A mother needs to be prepared and understand that they will need to not only witness a lot of vomit, but they need to be willing to wear the vomit. A mother’s fashion is not mother fashion without a splash of child puke on that little black dress.
As a mother, one can decipher poop, one can tell if the child is about to vomit, one is willing to wear vomit and boogers, but one is not always willing to give up their own pooping privacy. When one becomes a mother one must be willing to poop, vomit, pee, and change in front of a smaller, more interested, more vocal and confused human being.
As a child the mess was cleaned, as a high school student the mess disappeared, as a college student the mess was bearable, but as a parent the mess manifests, the mess appears from the depths of life, the mess in huge; the mess has a life of its own. When one becomes a mother, one must clean nonstop. Cleaning becomes more than a full time job on its own.
Ah, clothes, to a woman, clothes consist of designers, labels, shoes, and handbags, but to a mother clothes consist of sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a bra on the bathroom floor waiting to be washed. When a woman becomes a mother, clothes seem needless, bare bottoms become normal, and the mountain of dirty and smelly clothes turn into a chore.
When a woman becomes a mother, one must also learn control and restriction. One must learn that all bad habits are now reflected upon a minuscule person who has not yet learned the importance of control and constraint. A child is a mirror that directly reflects the mother’s life, morals, behaviors, and poor habits. If a mother behaves adversely, so will the child.
Motherhood is weird, confusing, disgusting, and abnormal, but motherhood can be a magical conversion in life that shows one that adulthood may be worth it just for the fact that one can still color and build forts without judgment.
Even though motherhood can be dreadful, frustrating, and scary at times, the love a mother feels for her child is felt and known without words that will last a lifetime.