Mothers & Daughters

Mothers & Daughters

My husband and I went on a family trip to South Carolina when our firstborn daughter was only three weeks old.

I remember walking the beach for miles as my mother-in-law stayed with my newborn back at the condo. I was twenty-five and, for the first time in my life, found myself tethered to another human being. My husband is fiercely independent, and therefore, though our lives were conjoined for three years before our daughter’s birth, I had maintained my independence, and he had maintained his.

And then we became parents.

I was quite melancholy as I walked that beach. I remember watching other young women–all oiled and tanned and carefree-sprawled across patterned towels–while my chest needled as my milk came in, alerting me to the fact that it was time to return to the condo and to my newborn who nursed for an hour every three around the clock.

This past week, I visited Gulf Shores, Alabama, with my mother, my best friend, and my two daughters, who are now four and a half years old and two. My mother played in the sand with my toddler as my eldest and I walked the beach with a little wire basket to hold our shells.

As we walked, hand in hand, I was suddenly taken back to that moment in South Carolina when I selfishly thought my life was over for good. My throat grew tight, and my eyes stung as I squeezed my daughter’s small, sandy hand. I had no idea what motherhood entailed when I was twenty-five years old. Sometimes, at thirty, I still don’t.

But I do know that my life is richer, for the beauty is inextricably linked to the deprivation that comes with maternal sacrifice.

Later that night, at Gulf Shores, when my youngest refused to sleep, my mother rocked her and sang, rocked her and sang, and as I listened to those familiar melodies, I thought that maternal sacrifice never ends, even once our children are grown. And this brought me comfort, for this means that the beauty will never end as well.

How has your perspective of motherhood changed over the years?