Joys of Motherhood
Chapter 17
Rating-PG
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from 7th Heaven. Don't own. Don't sue. I also don't own Barbie. Mattel does. But you could say I do because I own stock in that company but that's a different story.
Summary: A fanfic about Lucy, Kevin, and their kids. Takes place 7 years from now.
A/N: Sorry for not updating in a while. I would just like to tell (show) you guys something (numbers at the end of chapter 16):
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From Lucy's Point of View
Saturday January 17th, 2012
Toys litter the front lawn, the back yard, and the entire interior of my house. I run on 9 hours of sleep. I can't walk up the stairs of my house without tripping on something. I get zero peace and quite. I haven't taken a vacation since Adam was born. My water bill is huge because of all the loads of laundry and the dishwasher being run. I can't go out with my friends because I'm needed at home. I play hours of Barbies and cops and robbers. People ask me how I do it because they don't understand the pluses of being a mom, especially when you have a large family. But I also run on countless hugs, kisses, and I-love-you-Moms. And every time one of my kids yells "Mommy!" I drop everything and run. Weather it's over spilt milk or a missing toy. But it could have easily been a cut or scrape. I have an article that someone gave me when Jenny was born that I have framed and handing on the wall of our bedroom. It goes:
Motherhood-It Will Change Your Life
By
Dale Hanson Bourke
Time is running out for my friend. We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." What she really means is that her biological clack has begun it's countdown and she is being forced to consider the prospect of motherhood.
"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 natural.
"I know," she says. "No more sleeping in on Saturday s, no more spontaneous vacations…"
But that's not what I mean at all. I look at my friend trying to decide what to tell her.
I want her to know what she'll never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbearing heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotion wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking "What if that had been my child?" That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children she will look at those mothers and wonder if anything is worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think she should know that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will immediately reduce her to the primitive level of a she-bear protecting her cub. That a slightly urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. That the anger she will feel if that call comes over a lost toy will be a joy she has never before experienced.
I feel that 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 successfully arrange for childcare but one day she will be waiting to go into an important business meeting and she will think about her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure he is all right.
I want my friend to know that an everyday routine decision will no longer be routine. That a visit to McDonald's and a five-year-old boy's understandable desire to go into the men's room rather than the women's will become a major dilemma. That right in the midst if 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 the rest room. I want her to know that however decisive she may be at the office, she will always second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never seem the same way about herself. That her life 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 in hope for more years, not so much to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My friend's relationship with her husband will change, I know, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play "bad guys" with his son. I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would now find unromantic.
I wish my modern friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and 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 child's future.
I want to describe to my friend the joy of seeing your son learn to hit a baseball. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real that it hurts.
My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I say finally. Then I reach across the table, and squeezing my friend's hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holist of callings.
The article is so true. I can't read the news paper any more and the nightly news s torture. I start to cry and Kevin is left to comfort a hysterical woman. But every time my son or daughter comes into this world my raw wound is opened even bigger. This is truly on the holist callings.
Another A/N: Okay I know there was no point to that chapter but I really love that article and I thought it fit. My mom really does have it framed but it hangs next to her vanity in her bathroom. I know she's wired. The article is an expert from Everyday Miracles: Holy Moments in a Mother's Day by Dale Hanson Bourke. The next chapter will be from Kevin's point of view. I think the last chapter that was in his POV was chapter 13 but I could be wrong. I'm too lazy to look. But anyways, please send me a review. I won't update unless I get some reviews.