Mothers are different. (I’m sure dads are too, but I’ve never been one so…)
There are experiences in life that even with the most genuine of intentions you simply cannot understand until you are knee deep in them. Mothering is one of those experiences. No matter your intellectual knowledge on the subject. No matter your ability to empathize. No matter your close proximity to mothering. Until you have raised a child and have done the actual mothering, day in and day out, you can not enter the gates of understanding.
Mothering doesn’t make you superior, but it does afford you an unparalleled experience.
You see the world differently.
Your priorities shift.
You willingly choose family over the quickest path to success.
Your ability to make sacrifices and feel good about them increases exponentially.
You come to understand that you know absolutely nothing about anything.
Everyday is a learning experience.
Everyday you fail miserably at least once.
You learn time is not yours to keep.
Your learn that the daily to-do list is always longer than your stamina.
You learn that the daily to-list is not sacred. It can be sacrificed.
You learn that sharing your heart is better than having control.
Mothering is unique. Mothering is humbling.
And, if we’re lucky, mothering will wear down our shells and crack us open to a new reality, to a world where whole-hearted love is the answer to everything. Everything. Especially the impossible.