Growing up, I watched my mother closely. She was my role model, obviously, but also my hero. I couldn’t fathom her love for my sisters and I, but I am eternally grateful God gave me such a powerful example of love and sacrifice.
Much of what I know about motherhood comes from watching my mom, but nothing truly prepares you for parenthood. When I became a mother, I realized immediately that parenthood requires unreal levels of sacrifice. My oldest son was born prematurely. In order for my subsequent pregnancies to be safe, I went through weekly shots with each of the younger three beginning at 14 weeks gestation. The medicine was so thick that it required a wider needle, totalling about 73 massive shots in the butt to get all of my kids into this world. I broke my tailbone delivering my second son, and couldn’t sit for two years after. My body went into shock after the delivery of my third son and I had seizures. By the end of the fourth pregnancy, I had to get abdominal surgery to repair a hernia that had developed due to my abs being separated and stressed so much! The physical sacrifices of motherhood are intense, but looking at my mighty eleven-year-old who is now about to outgrow me, I’m realizing that his strength (and the strength of his brothers) is worth every ache, pain, seizure and broken bone.
I’m not a particularly emotional woman. I cry a few times a year but I’m generally pretty level headed and calm. This is good because the emotional sacrifice of parenting is more brutal than the physical! My kids think it’s hilarious to point out my “wrinkles,” that my butt jiggles, that I have bags under my eyes (after they’ve kept me up all night for a decade) and that I look hilarious when I am mad. I tell my friends that if any adult treated me the way that my kids do, anything I did in retaliation would be considered self-defense in a court of law. The patience it takes to correct these behaviors and train my kids to be kind takes mountains of sacrifice. But when I see them befriending the kids at school that are sitting alone, or choosing to forgive when people insult them, I realize again that the sacrifice is worth it.
Perhaps the hardest part of parenthood is the all encompassing loss of self that happens when one brings a life into the world. It can be impossible to separate your identity from that of your child. Their victories are your victories. Their losses are your own. When I became a mom, my life long dreams of law school went out the window. I realized I needed to change my goals in order to be a mom, because I’d only get one shot at this all-important gig. When peers and former classmates began applying and getting accepted to law school while I was elbow-deep in diapers and sleep deprivation it was its own version of heartbreak.
I wondered how I’d happily rewrite my story. That’s when I discovered my passion for the nonprofit world and I did rewrite a new identity; this one utilized my talents, fulfilled me, and also included my family. Eleven years into it, mommyhood is second nature, and I am so happy to be a part of their lives while still pursuing philanthropy, family business, and making the world a better place. I realize that while I once wanted to change the world through the legal system, I am now changing it both through charitable pursuits and raising my sons to be mighty voices for change. In losing much of myself I gained them, and again, the sacrifice was worth it.
