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Motherhood: Batter My Heart

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Every once in a while I wonder what the heck the Gods were thinking when they deemed me fit enough to join the Mommyhood. Better yet, what the heck was I thinking? Couldn’t I have done my homework? Asked around? I mean, there are millions of moms out there all ready with advice, free advice about everything! It probably wouldn’t have made that much difference though, to be honest. All I ever wanted to be was a mom. I pretty much thought I was cut out for it. All you had to have, I thought, was a good heart. Boy, was I wrong.

A mother’s heart is vastly different than any other blood-pumping organ on earth and only developed on the job.

A mother’s heart has to be big enough to hold all the emotions her children cannot carry on their own because kids were not made to handle human drama and the crap adults put on them. It will carry the sting of a secret crush unrealized, dreams too big to share just yet, wishes that float around mid-heart, not ready to burst from their lips. A mother’s heart should be strong enough to endure any attack, even the ones directed at her. She should keep them hostage there until they have no power to hurt anyone else; until they are absorbed by her own love and cease to exist.

Her children will love her so deeply that she is almost engulfed by it and wants to make them her world. She will love them so deeply that anything threatening to come between them will tear her to pieces, leaving only her impenetrable heart. And when she breaks, she will not die. She will pick the pieces up one by one and fasten them around her heart, oblivious of everything else and ready to keep loving again.

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