A Mother's Heart

This morning my husband, in his usually loving fashion, told me that I am gorgeous.  I replied, "Especially when I dress like a woman."  He looked at me quizzically and asked, "How do you dress the rest of the week?"  And my answer was simple: like a mom.  We can distinguish them by the spit up on their shoulders, the mashed banana on their shins, the jeans that don't fit quite right, the sneakers that have clearly chased a toddler many times, the extra jackets or toys they carry.  I love the SNL parody commercial for MOM jeans..."Because you're no longer a woman.  You're a mom!"  There are other indicators that a woman has become a mom, but they are less obvious, not necessarily visual.  There is the usual stretching of the belly, occasionally the widening of the feet or a change in hair color.  We see our husbands in a whole new way, we learn to appreciate their arms not for the comfort it brings us, but for how they so completely envelope our child.  We see in them the father they have become.  But the biggest change, the way I know that I am a mom first and a woman second, is in my heart.  After the birth of my first son, I felt more.  I hurt for others in a way that I never had before.  Upon hearing the news that a baby who was due close to James was stillborn, while I held my precious newborn baby in my arms, I wept.  I hurt for the parents who would not bring their child home.  A few months later, a 9 month pregnant woman disappeared from our area, and was found later when her boyfriend confessed to murdering her and hiding her body.  I followed this case all the way to his conviction, and cried and mourned for the lost lives of Jessie and her daughter, and for Blake, the little son whose mother was gone and whose father was now in jail.

Just one year ago, I was able to bring a baby home from the hospital to whom I had not given birth.  I was so happy to introduce him to our family, yet I also hurt for the woman who had left the hospital with empty arms.  I knew from my own experience of giving birth that her breasts would ache with milk that no one would drink, that she would have cramps as her uterus returned to its pre-baby size.  I knew that she would have aches from the point in her body the baby had come out, and she would move differently to minimize this pain.  But unlike me, she would not counteract these body aches by inhaling the sweet smell of her baby's head.  She wouldn't be able to lay the small warm body against her abdomen to soothe the spasms.  Knowing all this, I mourned for her loss, even as I delighted in my own gain.  Once again, I am remembering these aches as I cry for another mom who is leaving the hospital without her baby.  This time, she has not lost her son as a result of her own problems and poor decisions.  Her son was diagnosed with a rare heart condition in utero, and this brave woman and her husband faithfully prepared for his arrival, calling upon the Lord to guide them as they became parents to a baby who needed more.  They continued to place him in the Father's hands as he lived his short life here, and now he has left for the best possible place.  I weep for this woman as she experiences the most painful loss, that of a child; she will not know the joys and sorrows of continuing to parent her baby as he becomes a toddler, a passionate whirlwind of boyhood, a strong and confident man.  But as we all are, she is changed from the woman she was before.  Now she has a mother's heart, and that is the greatest gift we could ever hope for.