What you do as a Mother, matters. 

Over the years through tears, and sacrifice I often wondered if it all mattered. Kneeling beside their beds, praying over their tiny bodies snuggled beneath the blankets I prayed for God to accept my personal sacrifices for their good.

All mothers make some sacrifices for the children. Some make more than others, but all mothers make a sacrifice. Simply accepting the life within our bodies as a blessing and agreeing to be a co-creator with God to bring new life into the world is a tremendous sacrifice. A woman is risking her very life being pregnant. Pregnancy is dangerous business even with all the advances in medicine.

A woman's body is never quite the same after she gives birth. I know I earned my tiger stripes (stretch marks). Scars from C-sections, shifts in hormones, a myriad of changes all beyond your control confront you in pregnancy. 

I loved every moment of breastfeeding. I loved the extension of that private connection I felt during pregnancy that only nourishing my baby from my own body could create. Each every pregnancy was high risk. With my last delivery I survived by grace alone. 

I chose to be a mother. To make motherhood my life's work. While it's not all I do, or the only thing which defines me as a person or a woman, it is what defines me most. 

When my oldest child was only 2 years old I was scouted and had the privilege of discussing a potential recording contract. Please understand this horse never left the starting gate. The discussion was largely over before it began. You don't just walk into a studio. What you do is hit the road. You pack up a van and a band and you play every dive they book you into for months and months. You gel as a band, you write music, you pay dues, and learn to work a crowd and a room. I knew this but I wanted to know, just for me, that I was good enough to be considered. I was. I would not however leave my child to chase down the dreams of my own childhood. Not for any amount of money, or ego, or fame would I have traded the time I spent with him during his most formative years. Not to go play in dive bars for half drunk people in bars all over the midwest. As I think about it, I actually do laugh out loud. 

I would be vetted again a few years later when my middle child was just one. And again, not interested.  Loving work, earning money, and having a drive to be the best at whatever I am tackling may not seem like a great fit, for being a stay at home mom. 

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