Respect

I respect mothers so much more now that I am one.

I know how much work goes in.

I’m living it, breathing it, right there in the thick it with those who have gone before me, and those walking right beside me.

I understand, at a deep level, what it is to be called “Mama”, “Mommy”, “Mom”.

And when I see mothers going about their everyday, I’m reminded.

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When I see her supermarket with babes on hips, and shopping bags in any spare arm, I understand what’s involved. How strong her arms have become from having to carry them with every single thing she does, and how weak her patience may become in only a few more minutes. I respect how much she has going on, which may not look like much at all, because she’s so good at making it look easy. But I know it’s not easy.

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When I see her pushing around the pram at a family function away from the food, family and fun, I sense her loneliness. Her waves of resentment. Her longing for someone to offer her a hand so she can be involved in the celebrations for a bit. And I do offer a hand, always, if I have mine spare. Because I respect her sacrifice. And because I know. I know she may not want my hand. Or anyone else’s. But I also know she wants to be seen in her work. And to her that gesture means everything.

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When I see her sitting in the plane with her awake baby on her chest, or a toddler on her lap, or both. When I see everyone around her sleeping peacefully. I feel her tired. I feel her desperation for rest. I feel how concerned she is by having her child wake the rest of the plane. I have an urge to hold her. To give her the rest. To remind her that I’m right there with her, covered in baby, a few rows back. Because I respect her. I respect how much she is giving. I respect her needs. I respect her worry for everyone else, even when they are strangers.

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When I see a mother working on her dreams outside of motherhood, or lost in her dream of motherhood. When I see her squished between car seats, or changing a nappy in the car boot. When I see her in any form, mothering in her own way.

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When I see her, I see myself.

And I just have so much respect for all that she is.