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Becoming a mother is a transformation of self For centuries poets have been trying to explain the essence of love, and they will continue for centuries to come, because love is not describable. Likewise, anyone who is not a mother could never understand what it means to be one. I have heard older women who have purposefully waited to have children say, "I am now ready for a baby." They list the achievements that had to be met before a child would be considered - an established career, a stable marriage, a secure bank account - and assume that maturity and acquisitions are ample preparation for motherhood. A friend of mine who is approaching 40 just had her first child. Before she had her baby I asked her if she was feeling any anxiety about becoming a mother. "Are you kidding?" she said. "I’ve been babysitting all my life. Why, I practically raised my niece and nephew. I think I know what I’m getting into; I’m ready." but two weeks after her baby was born, she admitted that nothing, and no one, could have prepared her for being a mother. Becoming a mother is a transformation of self. Like all transformations or rites of passage, there is usually no preparation; ;you just pass through the arch into a new world. You leave your old self behind, much like s snake shedding its skin, and emerge changed. I am not the same person I was before I was a mother, nor would I ever want to return to that person I once was. The grueling painful process of birth, and the endless selfless hours of devotion to another human being sound terribly unappealing to anyone without children. But those who have passed through the "arch" into motherhood know the incredible power attained in the act of creation, the maternal instincts that make a woman a protector, a nurturer, a healer, and the meaning of that indescribable word: love. At a very young age, when I was a child myself, I made a conscious decision to never have children. Don’t get me wrong; I love children. I just wanted a more interesting life than the day-to-day routines I had observed in the female role models of the 1950s. I had also watched one too many movies with terrifying scenes of hollow-eyed, panting, sweaty prairie women biting down on dirty rags to stop from screaming out in pain during childbirth. And some even died. There was no way I was going to play a part in that scene. God must have realized I was serious in my conviction and intervened somehow. Two months after my wedding, at age 23, an angel came down to whisper in my ear, "It has happened." "No!" I cried out. "It can’t be! How did it happen? When?" "If you don’t know, then I’m not telling," he answered, laughing all the way back to heaven. And, so, I was to become a mother. I was scared to death of childbirth and angry at being robbed of my youth. As a new bride, I was overwhelmed with adjustments of a new marriage, a husband working through law school, myself working full-time and attending college at night. We had no money and no preparation for this overwhelming responsibility coming our way in nine months. Twenty-five years and two additional children later, I must admit that no training and no passage of time would have prepared me for motherhood. No amount of literature, no lecture, documentary film or scientific study could have provided me with the insight needed to become a mother. Motherhood is the best-kept secret on the planet because some things are just indescribable.
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