Six Things I Learned in Motherhood

Is motherhood all it’s made out to be? Yes, and so much more, according to mother of three, Kate Jones. She loves it.

Every mother knows there are an infinite number of things you learn when you take the splash that is motherhood. Some of us gingerly dip our toe in the pool while reading up on childbirth manuals, breastfeeding schedules, controlled crying, immunisations, epidurals and cloth-verses-disposable nappies. Others leap headlong in at the deep end, choosing to let nature take its course.

The result, however and inevitably, is the same: a squirmy, wet, noisy bundle is placed on your chest and you realise from that moment you’re going to be treading water in the lifelong journey that is motherhood.

1. The dive into motherhood takes your breath away.
Anyone who’s ever held a life that grew inside them for the first time will know what I mean when I say that my first life-lesson in motherhood is love. It’s not like I’d never been in love before, but nothing prepared me for meeting my son.

It was a Sunday afternoon. I recall it vividly, although it was nine years ago (if you ever have the time I will be happy to share it with you). Now, I still rate it as the best day of my life. I don’t really know from where those intense feelings came.
I defy anyone to find a high that compares with looking into two big eyes and a slightly distorted face and realising that this is what life is all about—that I had been born, in fact, to be his mother. In a split second, I loved my mother more than I had ever loved her, my husband became someone’s Dad and I would forever be known as Mum.

I gave away my pre-motherhood identity without a blink. I found love like I’ve never experienced. It opened my eyes more fully to God and His love and I was so grateful to Him for letting me hold my son, and letting me understand what love is all about.

2. Little things are not so little after all!
This is such a fun thing to relearn and through little eyes I am rediscovering my world. Things that big people take for granted like how ants walk in lines all around the garden, or how dandelions open their little yellow heads with the sunshine, make great daisy chains and then when they are spent turn into these magical little wands that float on the breeze.

If I’d never had a three-year-old, I may have never realised that dandelions are perhaps the “coolest” flower of all, and that a lawn full of dandelions means a lawn full of fun.

3. Motherhood has taught me that one of the best things in life is holding hands.
My two-year-old has such tiny hands, and they grip so very tight when we cross the road or when big, noisy trucks pass by. My seven-year-old daughter often slips her delicate hand into mine without realising she does so, and just holding that hand can make me catch my breath and the lump in my throat.

My nine-year-old’s hands are almost as big as mine. I wonder how many more years he will hold my hand as we walk to school, and I treasure each squeeze he gives me. So now the little things in my life (and the little people) are the most important. It’s been said before, but the best things come in small packages.

4. I think the most surprising lesson of all is that all children look like angels when they sleep.
It doesn’t matter if that sleep took hours of rocking, swaying, dummy repositioning, patting or singing. The moment they fall asleep, they are angels.

The day and its ups and downs are forgotten and with a small, well-known sigh, children fall asleep. Their hair curls around their face, their fists relax, and your heart always, always melts. You fall in love again and you can just stand there and watch as their chest rises and falls and you realise why God made sleep. It was so mothers would stay sane (well, mostly), and so their children would in fact be little angels at least once every day!

5. Cuddles change everything.
I have never had so many cuddles in my life as now, now that I am a mother. I have at least 15 a day—but more if there are broken hearts or skinned knees. I can stop anything for a cuddle. And I mean anything!
The funny thing is I always feel better after small arms are thrown around my neck; it’s sort of like “mummy-magic.” Tears stop, pain goes away and hearts are always lighter. Cuddles can change an hour, a day, a week—and even a year, I believe. In fact if the world had more cuddles—when people were hurting or happy, or when they just woke up from a bad dream and needed to feel some warm arms around them—it would be a much better place. So since motherhood, I have never underestimated the humble cuddle (or “cud” as my two-year-old refers to the phenomenon).

6. Now that I’m a mother first and foremost, I’m part of an amazing club.
I meet members of this club everywhere I go. There are no barriers to this club—not race, religion, money or language. This is, of course, the Mums Club. We share glances in the lift when there is a suspicious smell lingering. We chat in supermarket queues about extremely personal matters and we sometimes can cry with a stranger, then part feeling uplifted.

We understand why older women with grey hair and walking sticks will stop, lean over your stroller, touch a tiny cheek and, without a word, pat your hand. For this club very often needs no words.

This I could never have understood before I became a mother and now, I too, will smile understandingly at the poor mother whose child is having a tantrum over a chocolate bar. I will tell her it is OK; we’ve all been through it. I will look in every stroller and smile at the mother; and my heart will skip a beat when I hear that a friend has had a baby and joined my amazing club.

I don’t suppose I can list all the life-changing lessons that motherhood has taught me and is continuing to teach me. As I said, they’re infinite. But I know that through it all—through the tantrums, soggy Weet-Bix, dirty nappies, spat dummies, reading, homework, cricket practice, tears, fevers, chickenpox, trips to the emergency department and many, many sleepless nights—two things get me through.

First is four words every mother knows: “I love you, Mummy.” Every time your child says those words, you pause and inhale. They’re four words that make it all worthwhile. And second is the “arrow prayer”—short, whispered prayers shot up to God—for advice, stress relief, a parking place close to the ATM and that the fever will soon break.

I suppose, right now, I might just shoot God up an arrow to Him, saying, “Thanks, God, for making me a mum. I love You, too.”

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