I've been reading A Joyful Mother of Children, by Linda Eyre. Here is a section that I read today that I loved. I thought it was worth sharing.
I gazed at the wriggling baby in my arms, thinking about what a long, hard day it had been. My back ached, and my head pounded from a grueling day of feeding, washing, and refereeing; but I realized as I looked into those eyes that even though mothering was different than I had envisioned, it was better!
I relaxed, settled back a little, closed my eyes, and remembered that life is not one exhilarating joy after another. The occasional flashes of real joy, however, make us able to chalk up the rest of the experience.
Who can explain the feeling of sheer joy that comes from watching a baby's first breath? Suddenly all the discomforts of nausea, the awkwardness of getting in and out of cars, and the inconvenience of not being to tie your own shoes or even see your feet, or having grown out of all your clothes and wondering if you'll ever look normal again, fade into the joy of having brought a new person into the world.
The satisfaction, much fuller than you could have known, comes when you see two little girls, obviously feeling beautiful, skipping off to their dance review in the costumes you've made (with their help).
What fun it is to see your two year old finally fold his arms and sit through the family prayer almost to the end-- quietly-- and to watch your three year old actually try and draw his rendition of Jesus during church services and to know that, at least for a few minutes, his mind was in the right place!
Then there's the occasional meal when everything goes right. AFter meaningful family prayer, everyone explains his happy day, and no one cries over spilled milk.
It seems the blessing of motherhood never cease (I guess because the hard times never do either), and joy is so much more than we could have expected.