Before I had children I worked full time. I had a job that required professional dress, some ability to organize things, a briefcase, and appointments. While I wasn't turning the medical community on its ear, I enjoyed what I did.
But I noticed one thing as I drove between appointments: moms were everywhere. I would notice them in their sweatpants pushing strollers and carrying babies. When I drove by parks, I would notice them pushing kids on swings and chasing squealing toddlers. When I stopped at McDonald's for lunch, I would see moms sitting together with their children, having what looked like very wonderful conversations with the older ones, and playing patty cake with the younger ones.
It stirred in me a longing that said, "I wish I could be doing that."
A transformation occurred in me with the birth of my children. I traded in that professional look for sweatpants. I found myself at the park with my children, looking at working women and thinking, I'd like to be doing that.
Motherhood is a dichotomy, a struggle between two opposing forces.
But the transformation went deeper than trading my business suit for a pair of sweatpants. There was something else going on when I had children. I knew my life had been invaded by God in a way in which I would never be the same. With the birth of each of my children, there emerged from within me this person I had never met, a person whom I liked very much this loving, caring, nurturing woman. And I watched her, amazed.
There was another transformation that occurred. Another person emerged who was not as attractive, who was frazzled and angry and impatient. And I was in amazement as I watched her. It was a sort of Jekyll and Hyde split, a creature that came out ...
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