The Miracle of Motherhood


Do you believe in miracles? When they laid my newborn son on my chest for the first time, he suddenly stopped crying, soothed by the familiar sound of my heartbeat. My own heartbeat was just the right rhythm and timing to reassure him that he was safe in this brand new bright and scary world. It was like a miracle.

miracleI had forgotten the power that is contained in a warm touch and steady but familiar heartbeat, the power that lies in being home base when things are scary and new. When they handed me that brand new baby, I was flooded with the memories of each birth before his and of the weight and the joy and the sheer power of motherhood.

I was overwhelmed yet humbled knowing it was me that he needed, and it would be me that he needed for quite some time.

I walked into our home with this brand new baby, and my eyes met those of a three-year-old boy who had missed his mommy and didn’t know if he understood how to share her. The world saw a proud brother, but I saw the fear and uncertainty and once again knew that what he needed was a little extra love from his mom.

With each welcome home hug, I saw that same look again and again. I saw a five-year-old boy who needed goodnight snuggles and “You Are My Sunshine” sung while being reminded that he is so special to our family. I saw an eight-year-old boy who was acting out and needed the normalcy of Mom forcing him to eat real food and go to bed on time and read Harry Potter while sneaking in big boy appropriate affection.

I wish I could say that I wasn’t frightened and anxious, but there was a slight panic in my heart that first night knowing how much they each needed me. 

Not in the same ways of course… one needed so much of me physically while another needed a simple and reassuring wink from across the room that said, “we’re going to be ok and things will be normal again soon.”

However, it was that first day at home with all four boys that I remembered I am pretty much a super hero.

That I can see things that no one else can see. That I can somehow intuitively know how to meet the needs of all of these little people. That my touch is calming and my very subpar singing is enough to make them feel safe and secure and known. 

I’m not special. I mess up daily. I look at my phone too much. I get angry and impatient. I forget the big picture and get lost in wanting my house to be clean and to have some peace and quiet occasionally. I don’t always get this right.  But despite all that, there is no denying that the baby stops crying the moment he is safely in my arms and the booboos are better with just a simple kiss and the late night heart to hearts give way to hugs and apologies and renewed spirits.

I may not be perfect, but I am their mama.

Their soft place to land. Their kick in the butt when they’ve strayed off track. Their steady heart that continues to beat for their protection, encouragement, and joy.

Maybe you need that reminder today too. Maybe you have forgotten that you are basically magic when it comes to your children. No one else can look at them and immediately know the state of their hearts. No one else has studied them to know where every scar came from, what every little mannerism means, and what size shoe they wear (for real…dads don’t know shoe sizes). 

Too often, we minimize motherhood. But I’m here to remind you, Mama, that you are powerful and motherhood is nothing short of sacred.  It demands more strength than any of us ever knew possible. 

It stretches you to the limit and then stretches you a little further just to prove that you can. It simultaneously fills you and empties you, energizes you and exhausts you. It is filled with mundane tasks whose sum becomes this incredibly profound, almost otherworldly pursuit.

A new baby is a miracle. Your heart is a miracle. Motherhood is a miracle.

Do you believe?


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