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Day Ten: Your Greatest Accomplishment
I’d say it’s pushing an eight-pounder out the size of an eye hole.
Thumbs up and hands down, my greatest accomplishment is I’m a parent. The day each of my three children entered this world, I became the best version of myself. I was a woman with a capacity for loving I had never known before.
At the first sign of pregnancy in 1987, I was tending to a classroom of kindergarten-aged students as their cook, daycare teacher, and overall afternoon caregiver. Each day, I influenced the growth and development of each child. I felt proud of them and as loving toward them as any parent. I couldn’t imagine adoring anyone more—it wasn’t possible — and then my water broke, and in less than twenty-four hours, I learned I was wrong.
Our first child, a daughter, was tiny and exquisite. She was the most beautiful thing on this earth. That’s the magical thing about motherhood. You can take a bald, shrivelled-skinned, fragile human infant and see true beauty in its rarest form. And you wouldn’t be wrong. It’s just that others can’t see it—only you, their father, and maybe those closest to your social circle. Most rave about their preciousness, but only you feel it with such depth.
And pure love is both heartwarming and excruciating. Because the moment you seal your bond, you…
