MOTHERHOOD - - IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE . . .

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and
Her husband are thinking of "starting a family". "We're taking a survey," she
says, half joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on the weekend, no more
spontaneous vacations . . . "

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to
decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in
childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of
childbearing heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an
emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable.

I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without
asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every fire
will haunt her.

That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if
anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her
carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how
sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive
level of a bear protecting her cub.

That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best
crystal without a moment's hesitation.

I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in
her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might
arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important
business meeting and she will think about her baby's sweet smell. She
will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home,
just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be
routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather
than the women's at McDonalds will become a major dilemma.That right there
in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of
independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that
a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself
constantly as a mother.

Looking at my daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed
the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about
herself.That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her
once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save
her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to
accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become
badges of honor.

My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the
ways she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a
man who is always careful to powder the baby or never hesitates to play with
his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again
for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she'll feel with women throughout
history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk
driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most
issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear
war to my children's future. I want to describe to my daughter the
exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.

I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the
soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy
that is so real, it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my
eyes. "You'll never regret it," I say finally. Then I reach across the
table, squeeze my daughter's hand, and offer a silent prayer for her, and
for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into
this most wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of being a Mother.