As someone who cannot yet be considered a mother i find myself questioning whether or not I will be a good fit. My grandmother was just about my age when she had her first. Meanwhile, I overstay my visit in this childhood stage.
So what does it take to be a mother? I recall my mom’s soft hands nurturing me when I was sick, the puckered hands of my grandma making me my very own peach pie, my sister’s clenched grasp as they searched for the missing heartbeat.
Being a mother really is magic. The human body adopted as a portal of life. How blessed I am to have the opportunity to engage in this miraculous moment.
While I sit in all of this wonder I can’t help but question my own ability to mother. Scared of ways I could mess up, the hurt of them leaving once they’re full grown, and worst of all the possibility that my body will not allow me to know the joy of motherhood.
Though I don’t know if I’ll ever fulfill this seemingly predetermined destiny, I realize how lucky I am that I’ve been given such extraordinary displays of motherhood. I know that I have an army of women beside me who have all been experienced what I am going through and that with their support I would be happy to become even half of the mothers that they have been to me.
