Understanding My Calling

Motherhood.

It is supposed to be this epic chapter a woman reaches in her life. It comes, according to the norms of my generation, after a woman has graduated from college, established herself in a career, become married and then purchased a house. It is then, it seems, that a woman has earned the title of mother once all of these things have been accomplished. Then, she can rest contentedly in this new chapter of motherhood and know that all of society is smiling upon her impeccable life planning. It is then, when she has finally purchased her white picket fence, that she has arrived in life.

I have not exactly followed that perfect life planning. Sure, I went to college, got married, but that is where the similarity ends. I obtained a job after college, but it by no means was my dream job. I worked to live but I certainly did not live to work. I've never owned a house, and do not envision owning one anytime soon. And yet, a year ago, I found myself in my bathroom with the little pink strip informing me that it was time to begin this chapter of motherhood. While for many that strip warrants great celebration, for me, it signified great loss. A loss of a possible great career, a loss of extensive world travel, and the end of freedom to do whatever I want whenever I want. The loss was a loss not of real things, but of possibilities. I wondered what my college friends would think, would they think I'm wasting my life? After all we had worked together studying in order to obtain jobs to live our ideal life. My life was going to change forever, and I felt it in the deepest fiber of my being. I knew my life would begin to be about someone else, someone who needed my attention more than anyone else before her.

Obviously, the story does not continue forever as such. Thanks to my family and friends, I came to see the life growing within me with joyous anticipation. However throughout the duration of my pregnancy I continued to experience apprehensions about the way in which my life was going; I mean, a mother, at 23? The average first time American mother is 26 these days. Was I throwing my life away?

And then I met my child.

She was beautiful in her smallness and in the perfection of her tiny hands, feet, and nose. Her helplessness and innocence inspired me.

My life, was not going to be wasted, it was going to be used to love, instruct, and guide this little girl's life. I realized, I was never supposed to be a career woman, climbing up the corporate ladder. I was supposed to be a mom who stayed home with her children. I finally understood what Solomon meant when he said children are a blessing from God.

I may come to struggle with identity in the future, but for now, I am content knowing I am doing the work I have been called to do.