[MOL] [Fwd: Mom's] [01943] Medicine On Line


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[MOL] [Fwd: Mom's]



> FOR ALL THE MOMS I KNOW . . . . and all others who have been
> touched by a child...
>
>        We  are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually
>        mentions that she and  her
>        husband are thinking of "starting a family". "We're
>        taking  a survey," she says,
>        half-joking.  "Do you think I should have a  baby?"
>
>        "It will change your life," I say, carefully  keeping
>        my tone neutral.
>        "I know," she says, "no more sleeping  in on
>        weekends, no more  spontaneous
>        vacations...."
>
>        But that is not what I  meant at all.  I look at my
>        daughter, trying to
>        decide  what to tell her.  I want her to know what
>        she will never learn  in
>        childbirth classes.  I want to tell her that  the
>        physical wounds of child
>        bearing will heal, but that  becoming a mother will
>        leave her with an emotional
>        wound so  raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
>
>        I consider warning  her that she will never again
>        read a newspaper without
>        asking  "What if that had been MY child?"  That every
>        plane crash,  every
>        house fire will haunt her.  That when she  sees
>        pictures of starving children,
>        she will wonder if  anything could be worse than
>        watching your child  die.
>
>        I look at her carefully manicured nails and  stylish
>        suit and think that no
>        matter how sophisticated she  is, becoming a mother
>        will reduce her to the
>        primitive level  of a bear protecting her cub.
>
>        That an urgent call of "Mom!"  will cause her to drop
>        a soufflé or her best
>        crystal without a  moment's hesitation.
>
>        I feel I should warn her that no matter  how many
>        years she has invested in
>        her career, she will be  professionally derailed by
>        motherhood.
>
>        She might  arrange for childcare, but one day she
>        will be going into  an
>        important business meeting and she will think of her
>        baby's  sweet smell.
>        She will have to use every ounce of her  discipline
>        to keep from running
>        home, just to make sure her  baby is all right.
>
>        I want my daughter to know that everyday  decisions
>        will no longer be
>        routine.  That a five year  old boy's desire to go to
>        the men's room rather than
>        the  women's at McDonald's will become a major
>        dilemma.  That right  there, in
>        the midst of clattering trays and  screaming
>        children, issues of independence
>        and gender identity  will be weighed against the
>        prospect that a child molester
>        may  be lurking in that restroom.
>
>        However decisive she may be at  the office, she will
>        second-guess herself
>        constantly as a  mother.
>
>        Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to  assure
>        her that eventually she
>        will shed the pounds of  pregnancy, but she will
>        never feel the same  about
>        herself.  That her life, now so important, will  be
>        of less value to her
>        once she has a child.  That she  would give it up in
>        a moment to save her
>        offspring, but will  also begin to hope for more
>        years - not to accomplish
>        her own  dreams, but to watch her child accomplish
>        theirs.
>
>        I  want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny
>        stretch marks  will
>        become badges of honor.  My daughter's  relationship
>        with her husband will
>        change, but not in the way  she thinks.  I wish she
>        could understand how much
>        more  you can love a man who is careful to powder the
>        baby or who never  hesitates
>        to play with his child.  I think she should  know
>        that she will fall in love with
>        him again for reasons she  would now find very
>        unromantic.
>
>        I wish my daughter  could sense the bond she will
>        feel with women  throughout
>        history who have tried to stop war, prejudice  and
>        drunk driving.
>
>        I hope she will understand why I  can think
>        rationally about most issues,
>        but become temporarily  insane when I discuss the
>        threat of nuclear war to  my
>        children's future.
>
>        I want to describe to my  daughter the exhilaration
>        of seeing your child
>        learn to ride a  bike.  I want to capture for her the
>        belly laugh of a baby  who
>        is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the
>        first  time.  I want her to
>        taste the joy that is so real, it actually  hurts.
>
>        My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize  that
>        tears have formed in my
>        eyes.  "You'll never regret  it,"  I finally say.
>        Then I reach across the
>        table,  squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent
>        prayer for her, and  for
>        me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble
>        their  way into this
>        most wonderful of callings.  This blessed gift  from
>        God . . .that of being  a
>        Mother.
>
>        Please share this with a Mom or future Mom that you know
>
> _____________________________________________
> NetZero - Defenders of the Free World
> Click here for FREE Internet Access and Email
> http://www.netzero.net/download/index.html

---- Begin included message ----

FOR ALL THE MOMS I KNOW . . . . and all others who have been
touched by a child...

       We  are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually
       mentions that she and  her
       husband are thinking of "starting a family". "We're
       taking  a survey," she says,
       half-joking.  "Do you think I should have a  baby?"

       "It will change your life," I say, carefully  keeping
       my tone neutral.
       "I know," she says, "no more sleeping  in on
       weekends, no more  spontaneous
       vacations...."

       But that is not what I  meant at all.  I look at my
       daughter, trying to
       decide  what to tell her.  I want her to know what
       she will never learn  in
       childbirth classes.  I want to tell her that  the
       physical wounds of child
       bearing will heal, but that  becoming a mother will
       leave her with an emotional
       wound so  raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

       I consider warning  her that she will never again
       read a newspaper without
       asking  "What if that had been MY child?"  That every
       plane crash,  every
       house fire will haunt her.  That when she  sees
       pictures of starving children,
       she will wonder if  anything could be worse than
       watching your child  die.

       I look at her carefully manicured nails and  stylish
       suit and think that no
       matter how sophisticated she  is, becoming a mother
       will reduce her to the
       primitive level  of a bear protecting her cub.

       That an urgent call of "Mom!"  will cause her to drop
       a soufflé or her best
       crystal without a  moment's hesitation.

       I feel I should warn her that no matter  how many
       years she has invested in
       her career, she will be  professionally derailed by
       motherhood.

       She might  arrange for childcare, but one day she
       will be going into  an
       important business meeting and she will think of her
       baby's  sweet smell.
       She will have to use every ounce of her  discipline
       to keep from running
       home, just to make sure her  baby is all right.

       I want my daughter to know that everyday  decisions
       will no longer be
       routine.  That a five year  old boy's desire to go to
       the men's room rather than
       the  women's at McDonald's will become a major
       dilemma.  That right  there, in
       the midst of clattering trays and  screaming
       children, issues of independence
       and gender identity  will be weighed against the
       prospect that a child molester
       may  be lurking in that restroom.

       However decisive she may be at  the office, she will
       second-guess herself
       constantly as a  mother.

       Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to  assure
       her that eventually she
       will shed the pounds of  pregnancy, but she will
       never feel the same  about
       herself.  That her life, now so important, will  be
       of less value to her
       once she has a child.  That she  would give it up in
       a moment to save her
       offspring, but will  also begin to hope for more
       years - not to accomplish
       her own  dreams, but to watch her child accomplish
       theirs.

       I  want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny
       stretch marks  will
       become badges of honor.  My daughter's  relationship
       with her husband will
       change, but not in the way  she thinks.  I wish she
       could understand how much
       more  you can love a man who is careful to powder the
       baby or who never  hesitates
       to play with his child.  I think she should  know
       that she will fall in love with
       him again for reasons she  would now find very
       unromantic.

       I wish my daughter  could sense the bond she will
       feel with women  throughout
       history who have tried to stop war, prejudice  and
       drunk driving.

       I hope she will understand why I  can think
       rationally about most issues,
       but become temporarily  insane when I discuss the
       threat of nuclear war to  my
       children's future.

       I want to describe to my  daughter the exhilaration
       of seeing your child
       learn to ride a  bike.  I want to capture for her the
       belly laugh of a baby  who
       is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the
       first  time.  I want her to
       taste the joy that is so real, it actually  hurts.

       My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize  that
       tears have formed in my
       eyes.  "You'll never regret  it,"  I finally say.
       Then I reach across the
       table,  squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent
       prayer for her, and  for
       me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble
       their  way into this
       most wonderful of callings.  This blessed gift  from
       God . . .that of being  a
       Mother.

       Please share this with a Mom or future Mom that you know



_____________________________________________
NetZero - Defenders of the Free World
Click here for FREE Internet Access and Email
http://www.netzero.net/download/index.html

---- End included message ----