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2nd Place, First Things First! Writing Contest

by Mary T. Wagner

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.  Those words may have been written about the French Revolution, but that would pretty much sum up twenty-seven years of hands-on motherhood in a nutshell.

On one side of the ledger you’ve got the whole “miracle of birth” thing going on, starting with the nine months of pregnancy preceding the big day.  It’s a forced march of swollen ankles, taste buds-gone-wild, dorky clothes that just can’t quite camouflage the fact you’re the size of a house, exhaustion, mood swings, stretch marks, and sleep deprivation caused by tiny knees and elbows scraping your ribs from the inside, all leading up to that memorable moment when you grab the nurse by the collar and dangerously snarl “give me my f---ing epidural!”  On the far side of this adventure, if you’re lucky each of your babies spends eighteen years or so under your sheltering wing before finally taking off from the nest and leaving for college, while you stand in the driveway gaping, going “wait, this happened too fast!”  Moments to break your spirit or break your heart, or both.

But the stuff in the middle, ah, there’s the magic!!  Nothing prepares you for that primal rush of tenderness as you stand beside the crib, looking down at your sleeping infant, and think, ‘I would die for you.  I will protect you, and guard you, and keep you safe, and slay the dragons and banish the shadows, and I will absolutely worship you.”  And while we may fail at times in each of those promises as the years roll by, since we are only human and not divine…they still spring from the best, most hopeful parts of our hearts.

A few years ago, in what I call my post-divorce “turbo dating” stage, one would-be suitor—being as entirely rational as any former banker and current government bean-counter could be—asked me via email what I was “looking for in a relationship.”  I thought about it for about ten seconds, and then sent him my succinct reply:  total surrender.  We made it through three dates and then he quit the field.  I am so totally over it.

“Total surrender.”  The words conjure a combination of rapture and fear, terrifying vulnerability, uncertainty, a voyage into uncharted waters where monsters may lurk beyond the edge of the known world.  And most important, a heart that’s wide open, loving without hesitation despite the possibility of crippling loss.   For the past couple of years, I’ve felt blessed to have found a relationship like that, where heart and soul hold nothing back.  But once in a while I take inventory and look back over the past twenty-seven years of laughter and tears and worry and heart-stopping adventure, and think, “hey…I’m a mother.  I had it all along!”