Motherhood

When I became pregnant last year I was initiated into a new club.  The club of motherhood. 

I had a very difficult time as a pregnant working woman.  My life was changing on all fronts.  High Blood pressure, water retentionion, heart burn, carpal tunnel, and a pesky hernia challanged my stamina daily. If it was in my handy dandy guide to maternity---I had it. Plus I still had to put in long hours during the holidays.

At work I was very private about my pregnancy and its challanages.
But somewhere near the end, when it was obvious I was struggling daily with my preganancy I was initated to the club.

Of course all the nice things---like baby gifts and the ohs and ahs of a bun in the oven was to be expected.  What I had not expected was the stories that women were willing to share with me...from women I only knew at work...women that I managed at my store for years.

The stories went beyond long labors and special cravings in the night. I was  pulled to the side at work to hear their own personal short stories about miscarried babies, still born babies, babies wanted, babies longed for,  and babies lost. Each woman opening just briefly to let me into their heart, to share their sorrow, to share their joy. As if to let me know that I am not alone in this journey...even if the road takes an unexpected turn...we are not alone. We are mothers.

Even after my Blueberry arrived in the world---my membership has continued.
The most recent story has lingered in my heart these past few days.
A relative of a woman at work lost her two month old daughter to SIDS this past week.  The baby girl had her bottle and went down for a nap and never woke.

Absolute heartbreak.

It is hard for me to breathe when I think of this story, when I think of the look in the woman's eyes as she told me this story.  Told me because she had to let it out....it was weighing heavy on her mind while she worked away her day.

That night I rocked my E to sleep.  Before he closed his eyes for the night we said a prayer together...for the baby girl and her mother.

The next morning I cracked the door to his room to listen for his breathing as he slumbered. Upon hearing his little sigh I thought about what a thing it is to be a daughter of Eve.

How joyous.
How sorrowful.
How amazing.
How strong.
How fragile.

My heart beats for the love of my son.
For the love of being a mother.