Motherhood is lying on a gurney in the ER with your child on what had been an uneventful Saturday night.
Motherhood is crawling into your bed and hearing the sound of a barking cough.
Motherhood is hollering for your husband to clean up vomit so you can change out of your pjs.
Motherhood is not even pondering for one second that you will be the one to take him to the hospital even though his daddy genuinely offered.
Motherhood is singing old Macdonald at 1am, in a lonely hospital room, while we wait for the fever to go down.
Motherhood is croup and steroid shots and three containers of apple juice.
Motherhood is cradling a little person, a feverish oven and smelling of vomit, and wishing you hadn't worn flannel.
Motherhood is heading back home with the doctor's cell number and instructions to share your bed with the little boy that stole your heart long ago.
Motherhood is three hours of sleep, if you're lucky, before you get three children ready for the Christmas Pageant.
Motherhood is texting a babysitter at midnight to see if she can come sit with the patient so you can rush to sit in the first pew and see your daughter debut as Mary.
Motherhood is the life that is as near like jumping off a cliff as I ever want to know.
Motherhood is falling and leaping into the blackspace of love that beckons your heart again and again.