Paradox: a seemingly absurd or self-contradictory statement or proposition that when investigated or explained may prove to be well founded or true.
Motherhood continues to be a paradox for me. It hovers on two opposite and opposing points at all times. It is the simultaneously the most exhausting and the most energizing work that I have ever done.1 Few things inspire me with the same level of passion and determination as mothering my children does. Teaching these small people how to be human is a great responsibility. At the same time, nothing has exhausted me—mentally, physically, and emotionally—like mothering has. Some days I feel I have nothing left to give and it is still hours from bedtime. Mothering constantly reminds me of my limits and calls me to something more.
I have given birth four times. They were four very different experiences but some things were consistent in each. The waves of contractions threatened to pull me under; panic was only an inch under the surface. But I was also aware (at least as aware as a woman is of anything when she is giving birth) that I was participating in a fight for life; my armor was on and, in that moment, it seemed appropriate to be fighting panic with moment-by-moment perseverance. I recently watched The Two Towers with a couple of my kids and giving birth carried the same resignation to fate and determination to duty as the Battle of Helm’s Deep. I’m glad that most of of life is not that extreme but giving birth is excellent briefing for the tensions of motherhood. I am simultaneously the strongest and the weakest I will ever be. All at the same time.
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