motherhood

For that entire journey across the rough terrain of Afghanistan, I never stopped praying that everything of the world could be peaceful, that all lives might return to normal. I believe that wish is universal for every woman who is a mother.For all the horrible happenings that have occurred since I left Afghanistan, I can only think and feel with my mother's heart. For every child lost, a mother's heart harbors the deepest pain. None can see our sons grow to men. None can see our daughters become mothers. No longer can we see the smiles on their faces, or wipe away their tears. My mother's heart feels the pain of every loss, weeping not only for my children, but for the lost children of every mother.

Out of all the things I do, I think being a mom is the most important and satisfying.

Vous travaillez pour l'armee, madame?' (You are working for the army?), a Frenchwoman said to me early in the Vietnam war, on hearing I had three sons.

A mother is a child's first looking glass into the world.

For a child, it is in the simplicity of play that the complexity of life is sorted like puzzle pieces joined together to make sense of the world.

It's the curse of motherhood. You're required to love us even when we vex you.

I remember the sift that occurred after Abby was born - there'd been the great big before, where dying grandparents and natural disasters on the news were sad but mostly distant concerns. But then I became a mother, and when that happens, you cross a line that makes all loss a crushing, personal matter.

At a certain point in her life, she realises it is not so much that she wants to have a child as that she does not want not to have a child, or not to have had a child.

In order for them to be the best they can be, my children need me to be the best version of me I can be. That meanstaking charge of our lives, being strong even if I don__ feel it,being brave and believing that I can make things better.

Mamas are always crying about how one day they see you as a baby, and the next morning, they see you growed up.

Motherhood:The most exhausting, emotional, rewardingand life-enhancing journey a woman can take.

Girls mature faster than boys, cost more to raise, and statistics show that the old saw about girls not knowing about money and figures is a myth. Girls start to outspend boys before puberty__nd they manage to maintain this lead until death or an ugly credit manager, whichever comes first. Males are born with a closed fist. Girls are born with the left hand cramped in a position the size of an American Express card. Whenever a girl sees a sign reading, __ale, Going Out of Business, Liquidation,_ saliva begins to form in her mouth, the palms of her hands perspire and the pituitary gland says, __o, Mama._ In the male, it is quite a different story. He has a gland that follows a muscle from the right arm down to the base of his billfold pocket. It's called __heap._ Girls can slam a door louder, beg longer, turn tears on and off like a faucet, and invented the term, __ou don't trust me._ So much for __ugar and spice and everything nice_ and __nips and snails and puppydog tails.

I remember the shift that occurred after Abby was born - there'd been the great big before, where dying grandparents and natural disasters on the news were sad but mostly distant concerns. But then I became a mother, and when that happens, you cross a line that makes all loss a crushing, personal matter.

When my friends began to have babies and I came to comprehend the heroic labor it takes to keep one alive, the constant exhausting tending of a being who can do nothing and demands everything, I realized that my mother had done all of these things for me before I remembered. I was fed; I was washed; I was clothed; I was taught to speak and given a thousand other things, over and over again, hourly, daily, for years. She gave me everything before she gave me nothing.

You__e saying, __hat the hell am I gonna do with her?_ You__e saying, __hit, did she take her pills?_ You__e saying, __nce upon a time, I used to have a little girl.

Even if Mary gives birth to a child who is not her husband's, if she has a shining pride, they become a holy mother and child.

Parenting has nothing to do with perfection. Perfection isn__ even the goal, not for us, not for our children. Learning together to live well in an imperfect world, loving each other despite or even because of our imperfections, and growing as humans while we grow our little humans, those are the goals of gentle parenting. So don__ ask yourself at the end of the day if you did everything right. Ask yourself what you learned and how well you loved, then grow from your answer. That is perfect parenting.

Still the most magical day of my life was the day I became a mom.