There is nothing like being a mother, says Clare Lazzuri. CNS photo/Bob Roller

Motherhood is a gift

By  Clare Lazzuri, Catholic Register Special
  • May 5, 2012

I’m not a big believer in “Hallmark holidays” that force us to acknowledge our love for someone. However, I cringed when I learned my husband was going to be away for work on Mother’s Day this year.

Then I was immediately disappointed in myself for being disappointed. After all, who needs that one mandatory day where your husband and kids are required to treat you extra nice, make the meals and maybe offer a gift? Apparently I do.

As a result of my surprising reaction, I realized a few things that helped change my attitude. First of all, I am more a product of my culture than I thought. I began to see that it is easy for mothers of young children to fall into that trap of “woe is me.”

Struggles with tiredness, sickness, everyday frustrations and even special needs and depression can wear a person down and make mothers question their vocation and be susceptible to temptations to focus on themselves.

While I do believe moms need to take good care of themselves and that everybody needs a break here and there, it was as a consenting adult that I stood at that altar and promised to love, honour and obey my husband and accept children lovingly and openly. Reflecting on those vows made some 11 years ago, I realize I made what today would be considered a counter-cultural promise to put the needs of my family before my own. Unless I give myself over totally and selflessly (a constant work in progress) to my vocation as a wife and mother, those magazine claims of catering to myself and “having it all” can start to look good.

That is not to say that the everyday life of a stay-at-home mom should be idyllic, because it is not. Mothering can be dirty, tiring, exasperating, humiliating, but at the same time uplifting, rewarding, comforting and, above all, fulfilling. But the key to motherhood is that it is by its nature self-giving.

When I stood at that altar I was only a bride and not yet a mother and I could not possibly have known how difficult motherhood would be. Now I know what every parent knows — that he or she cannot comprehend the ins and outs and ups and downs of childrearing until they are in the thick of it.

This is where the limitless graces of marriage and motherhood are vital. Without the graces of the sacrament of marriage, the vocation of wife and mother is incomplete and, yes, tougher. If a mother knows to turn to Christ every day, acknowledging that these children she is raising are really His and gives all struggles and frustrations and joys over to Him, she will find peace and satisfaction.

Recently I ran into an old high school friend who was expecting her fifth child. She knew I had five kids and we were talking about how people think we’re crazy for having “all those kids.” She made an interesting point about having young children that I’ve thought about a lot.

She said “at no other time in my life will I have someone so happy to see me.” I think about that now any time I’ve been out and my three-year-old greets me with a hearty “Mommy, you’re home!” or I wake up in the morning to a smiling 17-month-old ready to start his day. All that children want is the love and affirmation of their parents.

Motherhood, indeed parenthood, is a gift. That undeserved smile of recognition and unconditional love from your child is a gift from God designed specifically for you.

That is why when you’ve raised your voice about a spill on the kitchen floor, lost your temper with whomever ate cookies on the couch and scolded your five-year-old for making too much noise when you were on the phone, God still sends that smiling child to you with a hug, a funny story or a simple request for storytime that melts your heart and reminds you who you are as a mother.

The old adage is true that as soon as that first child is born, a mother’s life is not her own, and there is nothing wrong with that. It has become more than her own, it has become filled with eternal purpose.

When I wake up on Mother’s Day, there may be no breakfast in bed, but there will be a house full of children who provide reason enough to celebrate.

(Lazzuri is a freelance writer in rural Nova Scotia.)

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