Bloody. Let’s face it, no delivery room escapes the sight of blood. It starts from the moment you deliver your bundle of joy and continues into the weeks, months, and years after. From your child’s first cut to a pouring bloody nose… motherhood is messy. I used to get woozy at the sight of blood. Now, I just react. As a mother, you gain an innate sense to deal. No matter how ugly. Flesh wound, anyone?
Motherhood is sweaty. From childbirth to chasing your toddler… you will sweat, even if just a little. And depending on the size of your house, you will sweat when you clean. There will ALWAYS be something to clean and a child to chase, hello cardio. You will also have to sweat out that muffin top. Nursing only does so much. 🙁
Motherhood will make you and those around you cry. Whether its tears of joy because you are proud, or tears of anger because your child is making you insane. You will cry. Your baby will cry. Your toddler will cry. Your child will cry. Crying is inevitable. You know the feeling when you realize you just missed getting clipped by the car next to you on the freeway? That’s the same feeling every mother feels when she hears her child wince in pain. Every mother has felt that. That painful shriek you hear from your three-year-old because her arm is stuck in her toy shopping cart. First the panic; how bad is it? Then the worry; I hope I can fix it. Let’s not forget about the middle of the night cry when you are in a peaceful slumber and wake like someone just slapped you in the face. Yeah, all moms have experienced it.
Motherhood is a job with a never-ending date; you don’t get to retire from motherhood. There are no tangible awards given to moms, gosh darn it! Everything we do is out of the love we have for our kids. Just when we think we have no more energy, time, or patience. We do. Not because we are superhuman (or wait, maybe we are?!) but because we love our kids beyond measure. If we are lucky and do a decent enough job our kids will award us with their love and respect. By the time they are grown, our only hope is they will reminisce about their awesome childhood; be a contributing member to society; and visit often — and not because we tell them to but because they want to. And when the day comes maybe they will even bathe our old bones and change our diapers because a part of them remembers, somewhere in their subconscious, that this is what we did for them when they were helpless.