Before I was a Mother

2 posts in one day! I'm not a mother yet, but there is an excerpt in Pregnancy magazine that I really like and I wanted to share. I probably should wait until I am a mother before posting, but this magazine will probably be long gone by then. They're not all applicable to every mother, but I'm sure they will end up being true. :)

Before I was a mother
I used two hands to do things like chop vegetables, wash dishes, type. I kept knives on low shelves; I left electrical outlets bare. I never thought twice about flinging my purse onto the floor when I came home. I lingered over my morning coffee.

Before I was a mother
My breasts were just decoration. They were the same size every day. I wore lacy push-up bras and sometimes no bra at all. My breasts did not nourish young life. They did not make skinny arms plump and tiny bellies round.

Before I was a mother
I had plenty of time with my husband. We dined out, drank cocktails, saw art films. We stayed in bed till noon on weekends. We took road trips with no end in sight. We finished our sentences.

Before I was a mother
I understood pain only in the general sense. I did not beg for spinal injections or pant on all fours in public.

Before I was a mother
I could not tell one stroller from another. I could not recite theories of pediatric sleep experts or schedules for infant immunizations. I thought cradle cap was an accessory. I did not call anyone "little goat" or "stinky butt" or "my old heart."

Before I was a mother
I dreamed of being a mother. I was a puzzle with important pieces missing. My shoulder was not a cushion; my hip was not a resting place.

Before I was a mother
My heart did not feel in Technicolor. The sight of a tiny chest rising and falling did not make me sob. The sound of monosyllabic babble did not make me guffaw. I did not say my prayers every night. I did not offer thanks every day.