No One Tells You
No one tells you.
Why, oh why, don't they tell you?
From that first joyful announcement that you're expecting a wee baby up until the moment before they burst forth into this world.
No one tells you.
No one tells you that their fuzzy baby head-smell will make you fly higher than a kite.
No one tells you that at 3am a crying baby will make you sink into the deepest depths of despair. (yes, Anne-with-an-E kind of despair)
No one tells you that from that very first real grin, you will spend the rest of your days lighting up with each and every grin thereafter, for now and evermore... even when accompanied by a toilet bowl filled to the brim with soggy tissues.
No one tells you that you will perform the most disgusting duties known to man.
No one tells you because such atrocities should not appear in written or spoken word.
No one tells you that every up and down your children experience, you will experience stronger, deeper, bigger.
No one tells you that somedays you will feel like Superwoman.
And somedays you'll feel like failure incarnate.
No one tells you that they will never. go. away. Ever. Not even when you pee. Not even when you go to work. Not even when you steal away for the weekend with your spouse. They are still there. In your thoughts. In your heart. They are the cute little constants.
No one tells you that when you're with them you'll long for a break. And when you finally get that break you'll miss them. It's like a special form of cruel and unusual punishment.
No one tells you how hard it is. No one tells you how great it is.
No one tells you how much you'll laugh. Or how much you'll cry. Or how much you'll pray. Or how much you'll clean. Or much you won't. Or how tired you'll be. Or how happy you'll be. Or how purposed you'll be. Or how at-your-wits-end you'll be. Or how empowered you'll be. Or how humbled you'll be.
No one tells you how blessed you'll be.
No one tells you.
Why, oh why, don't they tell you?
From that first joyful announcement that you're expecting a wee baby up until the moment before they burst forth into this world.
No one tells you.
No one tells you that their fuzzy baby head-smell will make you fly higher than a kite.
No one tells you that at 3am a crying baby will make you sink into the deepest depths of despair. (yes, Anne-with-an-E kind of despair)
No one tells you that from that very first real grin, you will spend the rest of your days lighting up with each and every grin thereafter, for now and evermore... even when accompanied by a toilet bowl filled to the brim with soggy tissues.
No one tells you that you will perform the most disgusting duties known to man.
No one tells you because such atrocities should not appear in written or spoken word.
No one tells you that every up and down your children experience, you will experience stronger, deeper, bigger.
No one tells you that somedays you will feel like Superwoman.
And somedays you'll feel like failure incarnate.
No one tells you that they will never. go. away. Ever. Not even when you pee. Not even when you go to work. Not even when you steal away for the weekend with your spouse. They are still there. In your thoughts. In your heart. They are the cute little constants.
No one tells you that when you're with them you'll long for a break. And when you finally get that break you'll miss them. It's like a special form of cruel and unusual punishment.
No one tells you how hard it is. No one tells you how great it is.
No one tells you how much you'll laugh. Or how much you'll cry. Or how much you'll pray. Or how much you'll clean. Or much you won't. Or how tired you'll be. Or how happy you'll be. Or how purposed you'll be. Or how at-your-wits-end you'll be. Or how empowered you'll be. Or how humbled you'll be.
No one tells you how blessed you'll be.
No one tells you.
Comments
Post a Comment