A conversation between friends..

We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she  and
 her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey,"
she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will
change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know,"
she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous
     vacations...." But that is not what I meant 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
    child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an
 emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.

I consider
 warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking,
 "What if that had been MYchild?" That every plane crash, every house
fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children,
    she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think
 that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce
her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent
    call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or 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 arrange for childcare, but one day she will
be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her
      baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to
keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is alright. I want
my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be
routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room
                  rather than the women's at McDonald's 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 a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. 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 she 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 to
 accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a caesarian scar or shiny stretch marks will
become badges of honor.

       My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not
                      in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love  a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with
     his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again
for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my friend
          could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have
   tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand
why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily
  insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your
child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a
     baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want
 her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.

My friend's quizzical
                   look  makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I      finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand and
offer a silent prayer for her, and
     for  me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into
this most wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and
that of being a Mother.

Author Unknown

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