MOTHERHOOD... IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."  What she means is that her biological clock has begun its countdown and she is considering the prospect of motherhood.

"We're taking a survey," she says, half jokingly. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say carefully.

"I know," she says. "No more sleeping in on Saturdays, no more spontaneous vacations..."

But that is not what I mean at all.

I look at my friend, 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 childbirth 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 look at the mothers and wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think she should know that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will immediately reduce her to the primitive level.  That a slightly urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop 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 successfully arrange for child care, but one day she will be waiting to go into an important business meeting, and she will think about her baby's sweet smell.  She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure he is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday routine decisions will no longer be routine.  That a visit to Mc Donald's and a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's room 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 danger may be lurking in the rest room.

I want her to know that however decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.  Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but 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 so much to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his.

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

My friend'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 who never hesitates to play with his son.  I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would never have imagined.

I wish my modern friend could sense the bond she will feel with other women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving.

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your son learn to hit a baseball.  I want to capture for her the laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time.  I want her to taste the joy that is so real that it hurts.

My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.

"You'll never regret it," I say finally.by Dale Hanson Bourke
Chicken Soup for the Woman's Soul

Are we voyeurs?

Judging by the number of reality shows on TV, the gossip blogs, magazines and even the tenor of the Presidential campaign, I wonder if we have become a society of voyeurs. It would seem that we are obsessed with what someone wore, who they are dating, what they are eating, and who is cheating on whom.

I'd like to invoke the famous line from Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." I don't want someone to dictate what is good for me or bad for me or how I should live my life. When I vote for someone on "Dancing with the Stars," I vote on talent, not their political, religious or social affiliations.

When I vote for someone to represent me in Congress, I vote for who I believe will do best by my city, state, country. When I vote for President, I vote for who I believe will do the best for this country, based on their abilities, track record and pitch. I don't care who has endorsed them and I don't pay attention to negative ads from their rivals.

I just wish the media at large will be a bit more focused on the issues at hand, not on who cheated on whom, or how rich or poor someone is. It so happens that Jack Kennedy and Bill Clinton will be judged as two of the most successful Presidents of the 20th century. Only those who are obsessed with their personal lives will dwell on the fact that they were both unfaithful to their wives. It is not for us to judge them - it is between them, their spouses and God.

When I go to see a movie, I do so because of the storyline and the actors, regardless of their personal beliefs or political affiliations. Of course, I will admire those who are involved in some humanitarian efforts or some noble calling. But, that will not be the driving factor for me to drop a hard earned dollar on their commercial enterprises.

'Nuf said. I don't give a mouse's hiney about how someone else lives their lives as long as they don't try to force me to live their way. I do love America and those who have fought for our freedom of speech and our freedom of religion and I must confess, I cannot read enough about those valiant men and women who sacrifice much, expecting nothing in return.