I never imagined how deep and incredible and strong and powerful my bond with my children would be. And I never imagined how exasperated, frustrated, and helpless they would sometimes make me feel.

I never imagined what it would be like to face my child’s pain.

I never imagined his pain would hurt me more deeply than many other kinds of pain.

I never imagined how much I would need to do to connect to that pain. How hard it would be to stay silent and still and be with him in his pain. How hard it would be to quash my desperate need to jump in and try to fix it all for him. How badly I would want to wrap him in my arms, and how much it would wound me when he struggled away from me to be by himself, in solitude.

I never imagined that mothering would take over every moment of every day, whether or not I was with my children, even when I’d be at work or sleeping or eating or showering or davening.

I never imagined it. Never knew the passionate love I would feel. Never knew the fervent prayers I would say. Never knew how much I needed them to be protected. Never knew how little I could actually protect them.

I never knew.

I never knew how much effort I’d have to invest into learning how to relate to my children in a healthy way, with secure attachment and positivity, even when I was tired, unwell, angry, or afraid.

I never knew I could do it.

I never knew that sometimes, after bedtime, I would cry and cry and cry, all the pent-up angry words that had been struggling to get out of my throat all evening still there, clawing at my throat and making it feel raw and painful until they dissolved in hot tears. I never knew how little satisfaction I would feel, how endless the task would appear, how I would always feel that I wasn’t enough — wasn’t calm enough, secure enough, loving enough, happy enough, laughing enough. I never anticipated how my children would peel away the outside, strong parts of me, leaving the inside me exposed and vulnerable.

I never knew motherhood was so draining. I never knew motherhood was so endlessly demanding.

I never knew motherhood was so infinitely rewarding.

I never knew how it would feel to hear my son whisper sleepily, “You’re the bestest Mommy in the world.”

I never knew how it would feel to look into my newborn baby’s eyes for the first time.

I never knew how it would feel to walk to the park, with my children running ahead of me and around me, laughing and talking, someone’s little hand tucked into mine.

I never knew how it would feel to pull a fuzzy blanket over my sweetly sleeping toddler.

I never knew how grateful I would be for every child, for every moment of health, for every perfect eyelash and finger and toe.

I never knew how it would feel to be the mother of a family — the one holding our family together.

The one making our family whole.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 887)