Mother’s Day can be painful for women without children. We yearn to read the flowery cards and exclaim over mysterious, clumsily wrapped packages.
Of course, I’m delighted each year when my nieces send me cards, but still I look back at my younger self and say:
“Girl, what were you thinking?”
What were you thinking when you became so embroiled in the feminist movement that you embraced every tarnished bit of propaganda? What were you thinking when you saw pregnancy as a problem, not a blessing? And when you turned to that feminist so-called solution known as abortion?
What were you thinking when you later hopped aboard the childless-by-choice bandwagon? That particular agenda was dubbed “childfree,” by the way, a word implying a delicious state of unencumbered being.
Let’s get real. Life without children means a big empty space in the heart. It means you don’t get breakfast in bed with burnt toast on Mother’s Day.
Nor do you get to host parties attended by herds of sticky toddlers while the dog hangs out under the table hoping for a tidbit.
Yes, the childless vacuum can partly be filled by the love of nieces, nephews and godchildren, but nothing can substitute for real motherhood.
In my youth, I didn’t see the dangerous message of the feminist movement, which still preys on women today. Feminists urged women to pursue their dreams, whether that meant medical school or police work –but there was one endeavor women were urged to forego.
It was putting marriage and children first and foremost in their hearts.
For women who were determined to have children, feminists advised holding off until you landed the graduate degree, the big promotion, or the first book contact. And if this meant waiting until you were 40, 45 or 50? Hey, no problem!
What a big shock when women discovered that Mother Nature danced to a different beat, with female fertility declining in the mid-twenties.
What a disappointment when many women ended up with far fewer children than they’d hoped for – or none at all.
Despite all the marvelous messages in Mother’s Day cards, feminists still persist in trying to make moms feel guilty.
If a woman has a baby and stays home to raise him, the feminists will remind her about how much she is missing at the office. What about the promotions, the titles, the accolades?
Mothers who dutifully follow the feminist agenda often return to work and put their babies into what are now called “schools,” but which are really daycare centers (because, for heaven’s sake, how can an infant go to school?)
Fortunately, some modern-day moms feel increasingly uneasy as the months wear on, and, before long, they see the truth: The accolades at work are fleeting, while the memories of motherhood last forever.
We’ve heard so much feminist lingo over the years: glass ceilings, second shift, juggling responsibilities, mommy wars, and on and on. Maybe it’s time to stop all the bickering and admit the truth.
For many women, the most feminine pursuit of all is being somebody’s full-time mother.
So, happy Mother’s Day to all the women who took the plunge! Let the cakes be iced and the cards be opened!
Let parades of little children with burnt toast begin! And please don’t forget the dog under the table waiting for his tidbit.
Lorraine’s latest books are “The Abbess of Andalusia,” a biography of Flannery O’Connor, and “Death of a Liturgist,” a mystery about a layman who wants to get everyone grooving at Sunday Mass.
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