I can’t help but laugh at myself every time I see my kids prancing around the house, at least one of them naked, one of them screaming, and one of them careening with a bang. I watch them, basking in life and burning off their before-bed energy, and I turn my mind to heaven, to the humor God certainly has in my life.

I was never going to be a mother.


The reasons were many and don’t really matter. The fact was that I was “liberated” and career-centric. I was going to set the world on fire and make a difference and not be bogged down by all the restrictions of a family.

And then I met my husband. And became Catholic.

Slowly—oh so slowly—my heart thawed. How could it not, surrounded by nieces who showered me with unconditional giggles and unrestricted hugs? How could I remain uninspired by parenthood when I saw this man I would marry in the family chaos of love? What chance did my “never to be a mom” self stand when hammered with the gentle persuasion of words never said and actions spoken clearly?

Fifteen years later, I’m still amused (and more than a little shocked) to find that motherhood is neither boring nor restrictive. I’ve learned more in the nine years as Mom than I did in the seven years I spent at major universities getting diplomas.

The rest of the story, and the baring of my heart at least a bit is over at Integrated Catholic Life.