A mother is someone who nurtures, protects, perseveres, nourishes, listens, holds close, and lets go. A mother is the woman with a baby on her hip, and the woman quietly crying behind a closed door. She’s the woman patching a skinned knee, mending a broken heart, and the one aching for her arms to be full again. She’s the woman they call mama, and she’s the woman who only got to hear it for a short time. Being a mother is rich and complex, nuanced and heartbreaking, hopeful and healing. Motherhood finds us all in different ways. It breaks us, refines us, humbles us, transforms us.
As we celebrate Mother’s Day this week we look around us and recognize the sacred act of mothering everywhere we see it, in all the forms it comes in.
Motherhood is a positive pregnancy test, a swelling belly, a grainy black-and-white ultrasound picture taped to the refrigerator. It’s a newborn’s first cries and a drowsy nursing babe.
Motherhood is a stack of paperwork, signed documents, and background checks. It’s having a social worker in your home, getting a physical, and selling t-shirts to fundraise. It’s waiting. It’s hoping, and praying.
Motherhood is waiting expectantly for a due date and watching it pass with empty arms. It’s folding up tiny onesies, washed muslin blankets and tucking them away. It’s the waves of loss that wash over you and threaten to hold you under, and it’s the hope that rises and pushes you forward.
Motherhood is a middle of the night phone call. It’s scrambling to gather up clothes, and readying bottles. It’s standing knee deep in the messy and hard. It’s saying yes to getting attached, it’s being prepared to let go.
Motherhood is loving your baby more than yourself. It’s choosing his life, feeling his first kicks and hiccups. It’s handing him to the woman that you choose for him to call mama, it’s saying goodbye for now.
Motherhood is meeting your son when he three days old. It’s the smell of his newborn skin and the softness of her dark silken hair. It’s your heart whispering “there you are, I’ve been waiting for you”.
Motherhood is the first glimpse of your daughter’s face, thousands of miles away. It’s the tear-soaked photo you tuck into the visor of your car, press between the pages of your Bible, and carry with you. It’s crossing an ocean and an unspoken number of obstacles to finally hold her in your arms.
Motherhood is the hope that this will be the month. It’s another twenty dollars spent on a test, and it’s the hope that lingers after the bitter disappointment has worn off.
Motherhood is seeing your child on FaceTime and recognizing the way he tilts his chin when he laughs because it’s the same way you do. It’s getting a semi-annual update; it’s wishing for so much more.
Motherhood is guarding your child’s story. It’s handing her another piece as she grows and holding her hand through the questions, the tremors that come, the sadness of not knowing it all.
Motherhood is sitting through that baby shower and celebrating with your mama friends. It’s bathroom floor, behind the closed door sobbing. It’s waiting for your turn.
Motherhood is waiting your entire life to meet another person who shares your genes. It’s carrying him for nine months; it’s finally gazing into his eyes that match your own and feeling like home.
Motherhood is repeating to yourself that you are one day closer. It’s one less place setting. It’s the sting of holidays that your family is no longer complete. It’s holding onto hope.
Motherhood is using your voice to advocate. It’s filling your shelf with stories of people whose skin doesn’t match your own but mirrors the rich brown shade of your daughters. It’s the woman who teaches you to braid, the man who speaks into your son’s life from experience. It’s listening, learning, leaning in, and peeling back the layers of your own privilege.
Motherhood is leaving through the same hospital doors, this time with a baby nestled in your arms. It’s the warm glances from people passing by, it’s the dull ache for the baby they can’t see. It’s never knowing the easy way to answer the stranger at the grocery store when they ask how many children you have.
Motherhood is a positive pregnancy test long after your adoption is finalized. It’s fearing that your beloved son will feel second. It’s assuring him everyday by holding him close, tickling his tummy, riding bikes on our secret sidewalk, and another game of hide-and-seek that your love only grows and won’t divide. It’s seeing him love that new baby and beaming with pride at the big brother he has become.
Motherhood is saying “hello again” to your baby girl after all of these long years and recognizing the beautiful, smart, funny adult she’s become. It’s mourning the first steps, school plays, high school prom you missed but seizing every opportunity to not miss anymore.
Motherhood is opening your door to a child with one bag of belongings who needs a safe, and warm place to call home. It’s inviting him into your home and your heart, caring for him like he’s your own. It’s parenting in trauma, it’s falling in love, it’s rooting for reunification.
Motherhood is deciding that even without a partner, you know that you have what it takes to be a mom. It’s grit, buying a hammer, building a crib. It’s taking a great leap of faith.
Motherhood is slipping into a gown, shivering in the sterile doctor’s office. It’s the hope that after all of the injections and hurdles and a heap of savings, this will be your miracle.
A mother is someone who nurtures, rocks, and cheers on. She is there even though “mom” is not her official title. She doesn’t miss a recital, or band concert or opportunity to encourage and support.
Motherhood is rocking your perfect baby boy, singing him a sweet song and kissing the top of his head, inhaling his newborn scent and praying he is safe. Not just tonight while he sleeps, but later when he grows and he runs through your neighbor’s backyard as a shortcut. When he hops into his car to buy groceries for his family. When he’s wearing a hoodie or simply going on a run. It’s the realization that the world won’t always see him as this adorably cuddly baby, and the fear that he won’t be safe when he is bigger and alone.
Motherhood is your tribe. It’s the ones who show up with wine and salsa and cry with you. It’s linking arms and sharing stories. It’s recognizing that our strength lies in our vulnerability and we can walk farther together than we ever could alone.
Motherhood is love, and courage, and kindness. It’s hope, it’s loss, it’s joy. It’s longing, it’s waiting, it’s celebrating. Motherhood is perseverance. It’s fueled by lots of coffee and lots of love and lots of grace. I see it in the eyes of a new mama, in the waiting pleas and prayers of a hopeful mama, and in the beautiful face of my son’s birth mom.
Wishing you a happy Mother’s Day, whether it’s your first of many, or you are several generations in, or if it’s a title your heart longs for and you are waiting in the trenches. May you be spurred on and carried along by those who do it so well and lovingly around you.
Together, we are motherhood.
WRITTEN BY CHRISTINA VANCE
Christina loves mornings with lots of sunshine and coffee with lots of cream. Saved by grace and passionate about adoption. She’s married to her college sweetheart and is a mama to four. Most of all she loves linking arms with other women to walk through the struggles and joys we face bravely together.
Ami WillardThis is amazing. I absolutely love it!
RuthBeautifully written! It touched my heart! Thank you Christina.