Discovering Motherhood

While all you ladies are going out and reading real literature, I'm trying to clean out my bookshelves and return all the books people have lent me through the year. To that end, I read the book Discovering Motherhood by AnneMarie Scobey over the Thanksgiving break. Bet you can't guess the subject matter from the title.

The friend who lent this book to me also gave me the book The Shack to read. Which is why it took me about six months to pick this book up. I HATED The Shack from the first word to the last. The writing was contrived and painful and the strident spiritual message was grating. Having said that, I read every word of the book and still think about it. But that's a different review for another day.

Discovering Motherhood also heavily references the author's religion and spirituality. But in a less aggressive way. Her religion (which happens to be Roman Catholic - same as me) plays a prominent part in the book because it plays a prominent part in her life. At the end of each essay, she writes a one sentence prayer or devotion that relates somehow to the story she's just told. For her, I'm sure it would have been as strange to leave out her religion as it would have been to not mention her husband or one of her kids in the book. So, with that in mind, if any mention of religious beliefs or practices makes you uncomfortable, this might not be the book for you. And if you are not a fan of the RC church, this might not be the book for you.

But really, her subject matter isn't her religion, it's her kids. And her experience of motherhood from the time her second biological child was born through her experiences with the foster care system, ending after her family adopted one of the little girls entrusted to their care. The friend who lent the book to me said Scobey's writing reminded her of my writing, which frankly, also turned me off from reading the book for a while. What if I thought Scobey was a terrible writer - what would that say about my writing? My fragile ego couldn't take it. Luckily, Scobey isn't a terrible writer - she writes succinctly and introspectively. She delves deeper than I usually do in my writing. I aspire to write as well as she does but I'm flattered that someone thinks I already do.

She writes of watching her children grow up, of the toys she no longer has in her house, of the phases her children have passed through once and for all. She writes about tearing up while watching her son receive ashes on his forehead at Ash Wednesday mass. This story really hit home with be because I had the exact same experience when Christopher was a baby. When they trace the cross on your forehead with ashes, they say, "Remember you are from dust and to dust you will return". There's something about hearing someone say this to your kid that's just a little freaky. She writes about being afraid her kid(s) will be abducted. She writes about not wanting her sons to become priests. She writes about the pain of giving up a foster child she has cared for for over a year. She writes about the everyday, the commonplace, the ordinary. And, most importantly to me right now, she writes about parenting a newborn.

I'm not sure if I picked up this book knowing what it was about and needing to get some fortification for the road ahead or if I was led to this book by God or the Universe(depending on who you believe in). What I do know is that it was the right book for me to read at the right time in my life. The subtitle of this book is "An Extraordinary Journey through Everyday Life" and it was. It was a gift that has reminded me that I need to slow down and enjoy these last few days with my family of four, even as we eagerly wait for the day when we round ourselves out with our fifth member. It has reminded me that though my kids are so big these days, they will never be this small again. For the girl who, these days, has an attention span of no more than ten minutes, this book was a great choice. It almost made me forgive my friend for making me read The Shack.