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Motherhood Quotes

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Motherhood Quotes

“Jesus of Nazareth is so entirely one of them they can hardly find anything special about him at all. He fits right in with the messy busyness of everyday life. And it is here, in their midst, with their routines of fish and wine and bread, that he proclaims the kingdom of heaven. The gospel, Jesus teaches, is in the yeast, as a woman kneads it with her bare hands into the cool, pungent dough. It is in the soil, so warm and moist when freshly turned by muscular arms and backs. It is in the tiny seeds of mustard and wheat, painstakingly saved and dried from last season's harvest... Jesus placed the gospel in these tactile things, with all the grit of life surrounding him, because it is through all this touching, tasting, and smelling that his own sheep- his beloved, hardworking, human flock- know. And it is through these most mundane, touchable, smellable, tasteable pieces of commonplace existence that he shows them, and us, to find God and know him. Jesus delivered the good news in a rough, messy, hands-on package of donkeys and dusty roads, bleeding women and lepers, water from the well, and wine from the water. Holy work in the world has always been like this: messy, earthy, physical, touchable.”

“I spoke to this woman in the supermaket," Charlie barges in again, "and I said I was tired and finding it hard, and she said, 'Ah, you wouldn't change it thoug, would you?' and I had to of course say no. But I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say, 'Actually, Brenda, I would.' I want to go back sometimes. And I do, Noelle. I don't want to be Charlie of then." Charlie bursts into sobs.”

“The likelihood of my baby being injured during co-sleeping was, in reality, significantly lower than it would have been had I left her in the hospital cot. In the UK, 90 percent more babies die alone in baskets or cots – Sudden Infant Death Syndrome – than they do when they securely, rather than hazardously, co-sleep with their mothers.”

“When she reached out to the little girl in her, nothing erupted but the dense muteness of her own children in her belly. She felt helpless, alienated from her mirror-image, perceiving her body as a shallow vessel, possessed by human beings that she never met, draining her energy and suppressing her proper self, which she considered absent again.”

“She was now more than ever confronted with the outward cries of help that leaped at her like an overflowing bathtub where the water had grown cold and rancid. The catastrophe had caught up with her. It had always been there, a re-emerging siren in scarlet tones, a temptation of the abysmal artillery of the brain, a carousel waltzing with crazed horses, the heel-clicking and tap-dancing back chambers where arthropods lay on their carapaces.”

“Apparently, as long as I continue to feed my children, there’s nothing wrong with me. A functional mom is one who can change a diaper and remember bedtimes. I’m not falling apart, so I’m fine.”

“Cuando los niños estaban conmigo, pensaba que tenían vidas ordenadas y sencillas. A diferencia de cuando vivíamos todos en familia, apenas me enfadaba con ellos. Casi todo lo que hacían me parecía bien. Lejos de Pat, sin esa supervisión insoportable, sin esos constantes requerimientos de atención y respuesta, mi furia se esfumaba. Dejé de ser la intermediaria entre el capataz y los peones, la responsable de todo. La mujer que acababa el día hecha jirones y que era remendada durante la noche con el único propósito de poder ser despedazada de nuevo a la mañana siguiente.”

“My Loving Mother I keep thinking of you out of nowhere I continue talking about you everywhere When days go by, when I am anywhere I wish you would appear from somewhere Though I know you have gone elsewhere Your departure left me feeling empty My heart has been heavy For I have been lonely I hold your memories closely Because you made life a bit cosy Things are not the same, without you in this world I miss the moments of prayer we shared The guidance from your end Precept upon precept Losing you is something hard to accept The silent wishes you had for me The stories you told about your folks The wonderful chats we used to have It is all gone, gone for good Just like you did Yet I appreciate That you have been great And no one can ever take Your special place My loving Mother”

“Something untoward was happening to middle-class American women, an undercurrent of i change was seeping through heir ideas about duties and obligations as mothers, eroding their desire to conform to madonna-like models of unconditional devotion to the young child to adapt a more managerial concept of mother as coordinator and motivator of her child's activities and interests.”

“What More Could I Ask For? Great blessing of my life When I see you smile I realize all the time How favoured I am that you are mine Thank you for being on my side My beautiful sunshine Shining star in the night Bright light in the dark Greatest delight You make my world a better place And you bring so much peace My strength when I am weak For you, I stay on my knees I wish you would see how it feels As I walk on the streets Knowing that you are a part of me Of you, I am proud indeed As a Mother, I still wonder What I have done To be graced with a special gift Altogether treasured I know God has been kind To give me such a child What more could I ask for?”

“I definitely think mothers of children with disabilities have to have extraordinary courage every day...Because we all know our children have value and worth and potential, but the everyday world sometimes doesn’t.' —Linda Strobel in Up: A Love Letter to the Down Syndrome Community”

“This idealization of motherhood is essentially a means of keeping women from developing a sexual consciousness and from breaking through the barriers of sexual repression, of keeping alive their sexual anxieties and guilt feelings. The very existence of woman as a sexual being would threaten authoritarian ideology; her recognition and social affirmation would mean its collapse.”

“Siempre he estado convencido de que el primer mordisco de la enfermedad de mi madre se llevó lo que yo más quería: el beso de buenas noches. Yo pensé que, como el rezo juntos antes de dormir, era otra pérdida de la edad. Una más de las catástrofes de hacerte mayor. Como que dejara de ordenarme la ropa, de removerme el Cola-Cao o de preguntarme al volver del colegio si tenía muchos deberes. Un día las madres dejan de darte el beso de buenas noches, se fue el beso de buenas noches y vinieron la hipoteca del piso y las letras del coche, en mi caso una noche no llegó el beso y aguardé silencioso. La oscuridad se transformó en hostil, lúgubre, inhóspita. Puede que otras noches yo mismo la llamara, pero llega la noche en que no te sientes autorizado para gritarle mamá, ¿vienes? Y no viene nadie. Puede que cuando despiertas a la mañana siguiente seas más adulto, más independiente, pero esa noche tan sólo eres más infeliz. La segunda noche consecutiva sin beso, lloré en silencio. Sentí algo amputado adentro. Si te arrancan un brazo, dudo que duela como perder ese beso.”

“For the sick babies with a life-limiting diagnosis, sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if abortion was really the best treatment we had to offer. How could ending a life be considered "treatment" when we were taught to do no harm? And would ending the life of her child, no matter how sick, be something a mother could ever get over emotionally?”

“MAMA SAL: When you're a girl, hija, and a Mexican, you learn that you only got one shot at being a woman and that's being a mother. LUNA: Tell Medea. She's the mother, not me. MAMA SAL: You go from a daughter to a mother, and there's nothing in between. That's the law of our people written como los diez commandments on the metate stone from the beginning of all time.”

“Mothers of black boys survive by pushing fear down so it doesn't overflow, overwhelm our senses, paralyze us, and derail our ability to love, nurture and protect our black boys.”

“But to the slave mother New Year's day comes laden with peculiar sorrows. She sits on her cold cabin floor, watching the children who may all be torn from her the next morning; and often does she wish that she and they might die before the day dawns. She may be an ignorant creature, degraded by the system that has brutalized her from childhood; but she has a mother's instincts, and is capable of feeling a mother's agonies.”