Found on the Internet (I totally agree).

What is it like to be a mom.

We were sitting at the table when my daughter casually mentioned that she and her husband were thinking about "starting a full-fledged family."

“We're doing an opinion poll here,” she said jokingly. - What do you think, maybe I should already have a baby?

“It will change your life,” I said, trying not to show my emotions in any way.

“I know,” she said. - And you can't sleep on weekends, and you can't really go on vacation.

But that was not at all what I had in mind. I looked at my daughter, trying to articulate my words more clearly. I wanted her to understand what she would not be taught in any prenatal course.

I wanted to tell her that the physical wounds from childbirth will heal very quickly, but motherhood will give her such a bleeding emotional wound that it will never heal. I wanted to warn her that henceforth she will never be able to read the newspaper without an inner question: "What if this happened to my child?" That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her. That when she looks at pictures of children dying of hunger, she will think that there is nothing worse in the world than the death of your child.

I looked at her manicured nails and stylish suit and thought that no matter how sophisticated she was, motherhood would lower her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. What an alarmed cry of "Mom!" will make her give up everything without regret: from pie to the best crystal glass.

It seemed to me that I should warn her that no matter how many years she spent on her work, her career would be significantly affected after the birth of a child. She can hire a nanny, but one day she will go to an important business meeting, but she will think about the sweet smell of a baby's head. And it will take all her willpower not to run home just to find out that her baby is okay.

I wanted my daughter to know that the nonsense everyday problems will never again be nonsense to her. That a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room at McDonald's would be a huge dilemma. That there, among the clattering trays and screaming children, the issues of independence and gender identity will rise on one side of the scales, and the fear that there, in the toilet, may be a rapist of minors - on the other.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I wanted to tell her that she can lose the weight gained during pregnancy, but she can never lose motherhood and become the same. That her life, which is so important to her now, will no longer be so important after the birth of the child. That she will forget about herself at the moment when it will be necessary to save her baby, and that she will learn to hope for fulfillment - oh, no! not your dream! - the dreams of their children.

I wanted her to know that a cesarean scar or stretch marks would be a sign of honor for her. That her relationship with her husband will change and not at all the way she thinks. I would like her to understand how much you can love a man who carefully sprinkles powder on your child and who never refuses to play with him. I think she will find out what it is like to fall in love again for a reason that now seems to her completely unromantic.

I wanted my daughter to feel that connection between all the women of the earth who tried to stop wars, crime and drunk driving.

I wanted to describe to my daughter the thrill that overwhelms a mother when she sees her child learn to ride a bike. I wanted to capture for her the laughter of a toddler as he touches the soft fur of a puppy or kitten for the first time. I wanted her to feel joy so overwhelming that it can hurt.

My daughter's surprised look made me realize that tears were welling up in my eyes.

“You will never regret it,” I said finally. Then I reached across the table to her, squeezed her hand and mentally prayed for her, for myself and for all mortal women who devote themselves to this most wonderful of callings.