When I was pregnant with my first child I was dealing with the stresses of an unexpected high risk pregnancy. Prior to being put on bedrest and while explaining all of the concerns my doctor had for the pregnancy following one of my many appointments, I had a coworker explain to me in her very great wisdom, that motherhood has a way of making things “more.” More joy. More fear. More stress. More happiness. Just more.

Four years and two children later I find that to be the most accurate description of motherhood I’ve ever come across. My sons have brought me so much “more.”  The longest nights were followed by the longest days and yet the time seems to be passing more quickly than it ever had before. I’ve been more joyful, more anxious, more content, more afraid then ever before. I’ve cried more. I’ve laughed more. I’ve worried more. I’ve wanted to run more and I’ve wanted to stay exactly the same more. The theme of my life sometimes feel like, “more.” But above all, I’ve loved more. And my reward has been that in return I’ve been loved more.  The best reward of all. 

 

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