"I would take motherhood and learn not only to love it, but rock it."
I’m not going to lie. I used to think being a mom was for losers. Or, better yet, that you become a loser. Sure, baring offspring is an essential and rewarding part of life as we know it, but who really wants to trade in their vintage-leather handbag for a diaper bag? Who actually invites the selflessness it all demands? Come on. Spit-up? Early rising? Oh, and not to mention my one biggest fear growing up: child labor.
As much as I always knew I wanted to raise a family, I looked to the future imagining I would be forfeiting my personality, self-expression, time and, oh, just about everything else I love about life. It’s not that I feared that I wouldn’t love my kids. And, growing up as one of seven kids, I saw the beauty in a large brood. But, to say the least, I didn’t idolize, nor anticipate taking on, the image of the self-sacrificing, raggedy Jewish mother that was so often praised.
Luckily, my very own first birth taught me that my happiness and confidence as a mother would be in my own hands.