by Linda Gallant Potts

Created on: April 18, 2007   Last Updated: April 25, 2007

Mother Journey

Positive. From that first word of confirmation the journey begins. I hold my tummy close, longing to feel the shape, imagine the person growing inside. I thrill at the first flutter, cry tears of gratitude at the first definitive kick, the feel of a heel against my rib. I am no longer just me, but a vessel bringing the life within to safety. I will never think of myself as just me again.The excitement of new life overshadows the agony of childbirth, makes sleep impossible, pales the rest of life in comparison. I watch the tiny rosebud lips, feel the softness of the baby's body down, the way the tiny fingers clutch my own, the way the tiny mouth seeks its milk. My love is bursting beyond anything ever felt before. I fight the urge to hug too hard and I fear his fragility. It is the beginning of my struggle against loving too much. Later, it is my own frailty I will protect.

Soon we are a family. There are two little boys to protect, two little beings to share our love and time with, to fill our lives with purpose. I watch them grow, become personalities diverse and delightful. I watch their talents bloom and energy abound as they chase soccer balls across the fields. I study their development like a scientist his discovery, like a botanist the hybrid rose. I delight in their charm, their spirit, their devotion to each other and their family. We are so close. They are still a part of me. I am a glass half full when we are apart and my eyes fill to over-brimming when we are all together.

I love too much. I am filled with happiness for the life we have, for the innocence of our children and others like them. Their friends bring life to our home. Their activities are the nucleus of our life outside our jobs. Our parental responsibilities are never a burden, but a joy, a purpose, a quest for the perfect life. I do not think about the changes that will inevitably come, about the things I can never control. And when they do begin, my heart denies them far too long. I see my sons grow taller but I still see each as the child they once were. I feel myself grow older but want to believe I am still the young woman who could once turn heads. I want time to stand still.

The signs are obvious to all but me at first. I watch as my sons change and struggle to shake free, to test their wings and break the ties that once bound us so tight. It is subtle at first, as they spend less time at home, until soon, spending time together involves ahead-of-time negotiating and

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