Is there anything better than being a mom?
Don’t get me wrong, there are those days when I shake my head and bury my head in my pillow, while asking the Almighty what on earth I was thinking 
those three nights when I only asked for a back rub.
Most of the time, I cannot believe how blessed I am to be called “mom” by my favorite three.
As I was chatting with a woman, pregnant with her first child, last week, I realized how much time has gone by, how many experiences I have had and shared, because I am mom.
From the moment I first was confirmed pregnant, to the first moves detected from within, to those first indicators that their exit was soon to take place.
From that first eye to eye investigation of each other, to the eye spy games, to the first time I got a stink eye from them.
From the rocking them to sleep, to wresting them back to bed for the umpteenth time, to trying to wrangle their sleepy heads awake on a school day.
From the stories read in cardboard books, to the stories shared in novels, to the stores shared on social media.
From the first attempts at latching, to the first solid foods, to the meals they have made for me.
From counting toes, to counting steps, to counting kilometers on a hike.
From first steps, to first bike rides, to first time behind the wheel.
From preschool, to kindergarten, to graduation.
From tears of joy, to tears of sorrow, and back again.
From prayers for their safe arrival, to prayers shared over meals, to prayers made in faith.
These three have changed my life, my trajectory, me in every conceivable way. They have made me softer, harder, more consistent, more flexible.
The stretch marks, across my tummy, were the first signs of the stretching that being a mom would require. They were the predictors of what would be required of me, for the rest of my life. I have been stretched in such a way, that I have been changed, marred, tattooed by mothering.
Recently I was talking to a friend. She shared with me that it was an anniversary of the loss of her baby … her only baby. In an instant I had whispered “thank-you” to my God for the three that He has allowed me to spend life with.
It is easy to forget, it is easy to get so consumed by living, that we forget about the blessing of life, as a mom.
I remember well those (five) times when life within, ceased to continue to grow. I remember the heartache, I remember how it seemed as though the world stopped spinning.
Today, I choose to remember those (three) times, when life was birthed … and it seemed as though the world stopped spinning … because I became a mom.
*Though written three years ago, Momma Guilt continues for this Momma … I bet it does for us all … and continues to the end of our Earthly lives.
dreams, aspirations, hopes and goals for her future. She dreamed of one day getting married, having babies, and doing it all just like she has seen on TV.
hubby, who did most of the cleaning and cooking!
The other day, I found myself deep in the mires of MOMMA GUILT … ever been there, ladies?
And this is where momma guilt began … Not really, of course, because that is with me ALL the time! You see, I have this dream in my mind of getting the ‘Mom of the Year’ award … and I have had that annual award … on January 1, until 12:01am, when I blow it. But, I digress … again.
Wow! Can I wallow, or what? Suffice it to say, that on this particular day, EVERY violation, every failure, every fault I have ever made, in the life of my son, I remembered and felt. Also, suffice it to say, I threw my own pity party, lasting most of the entire day! And, my To Do list … not so much got done.
I heard the story of a family who built a small backyard chicken coop.
itsawonderfilledlife 