Chicken Soup

I've been reading this book my sister-in-law, Selina bought me called "Chicken Soup for the Expectant Mother's Soul". It's truly been a blessing. Each story seemed to have been written just for someone like me - someone who's going through all the ups and downs of pregnancy, missing the life I used to have yet excited about the new life I'm entering into, frustrated about feeling exhausted all the time yet amused each time I feel my baby kick within my belly, exasperated about not being able to reach my toes anymore yet loving it everytime Elton helps me wear my socks, and nervous about parenting for the very first time, hoping I don't screw up too much yet somehow knowing deep inside that this baby is the missing piece in my life. I groan about the tribulations of pregnancy some days but then I'm reminded of the millions of expecting mothers out there in the world going through the same thing and I feel privileged and blessed again. As with any woman about to be a mother for the very first time, it's a pot of mixed feelings. 
This story I read today by Gayle Sorensen Stringer that really touched me heart: 
                In my previous life, before I was reincarnated as a mother of three, I wore clothes that fit and matched.  wore makeup and curled my hair every day. I had my eyebrows waxed and my nails done. But no one gave me graham cracker kisses. No one every told me how pretty I look in sweats.
                In my previous life, I read Time magazine and the newspaper. My repartee of regular television viewing transcended Arthur and The Magic School Bus, and I devoured all the bestselling novels. But on one asked me to read The Velveteen Rabbit at bedtime. No one ever requested The Little Engine that Could.
                 In my previous life, I had a career and friends who were more than three feet tall. People asked for my opinions and entrusted me with important projects and confidential information. I had conversations where not once was mentioned snacks or potties or play dates. But no one asked me my favorite color or why the sky is so blue. No one ever wanted me to sing.
                 In my previous life, I had a life. I frequented aerobics classes, restaurants and the theatre. I hosted parties where the themes had nothing to do with Star Wars or Winnie-the-Pooh. I shopped for myself and slept late on weekends. But no one made me Valentine cards. No one ever gave me dandelion bouquets.
                 In my previous life, I traveled, and my destinations did not hinge on theme parks or swimming pools or nap schedules. The Mayan ruins of the Yucatan, snorkeling in the Caribbean, museum hopping in Italy, Kabuki Theater in Japan...these were my playgrounds. I was the queen of the road and my destiny. But no one asked me to push the swing higher. No one ever invited me to splash in puddles or roll in the snow.
                 In my previous life, I held my emotions in check. I did not stomp my feet or grit my teeth. I could not easily be diminished to tears or tirades. I considered my demeanor as laid-back and easygoing. But no one made me care enough to cry. No one ever just loved me, anyway.
                 In my previous life, I was free. I could carve my own path and follow my dreams. Nothing stood in my way. But the path was unsure and the vision blurred. No one ever gave me purpose enough to soar, Now, I endlessly rearrange piles of laundry, crumbs and toys. I am pulled and tugged, hassled and harassed, stepped on and sat upon, and desperate for some solitude. I am jean-clad and juice-stained, bleary-eyed and graying, underpaid and overwhelmed. And sometimes I wonder who I am and what I've become. Then, one of my children shouts, "Mommy, I need you!" and it is perfectly clear.
                I am the center of the Universe. I am MOM.