Being a Mother was not something I felt compelled to rush into.
I always knew I wanted to be a Mother. Someday. But while my cousins and friends all said that they wanted to be a mother and be finished with having kids by 30, I was always more cautious. Why rush?
Maybe it was because my Mother had me at 28 and my brother at 37.
Maybe it’s because there were so many things for me to do that I knew I wouldn’t do after I had kids.
Maybe it’s because I hadn’t met the right man who I really wanted to join my egg with.
Whatever the reason, I didn’t become a Mother until late in life.
At 34, Pookah entered my world in grand fashion during an emergency c section that had me hurdling down the hallway with my butt in the air, praying for his life.
And finally when he gave that first cry, I was a Mother.
After two years of trying I was a Mother.
After a painful miscarriage that made me feel like my world had ended, I was a Mother.
It was a miracle. A blessing.
I am grateful every day that God decided to loan me this child and to let me be a part of his life.
He is the best part of me.
Everyday I am awed, frustrated, tickled, flabbergasted and loved by him.
So on this,my fourth Mother’s Day, there is joy deep down in my soul every time he says Mama.
This is Motherhood.
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