Some five years ago my wife stopped being just a wife and became a mother. Over the time I have known my wife, about 11 years now, she has gone through many such changes: girl to girlfriend, fiancee to wife, etc. Note that women seem to do this often. Men, on the other hand, tend to reach a plateau and any growth beyond that is often slow, gradual, and requires enormous effort. For instance, I am still attempting to adopt the habit of picking up my clothes from the floor after declothing myself. Women can transform or mutate with such suddenness that I'm certain it must stun them as much as it consternates and bewilders their male companions.
My wife went through just such a change the day our first born shot from her loins. Although this mutation, like the many that had preceded it, appeared subtle at first, after time its effects became more apparent. She began to worry. That was the first change I noticed. Despite the sleep deprivation imposed by the incessant pumping to supply our screaming fetus's insatiable appetite, she began to awake in what few minutes of sleep she had to assure that her loaf of a husband had not rolled onto the newborn in his deep and sound slumber.
To me this tiny and shriveled newborn, this odd organism that could do little but scream in agony was barely human (I still maintain that babies are not homo sapiens), to her it was a precious appendage of her own life and spirit. She could empathize with its pain, discover its desires, and calm its aching heart (notice that I refer to my son as 'it'). My wife like so many of her gender had become a mother.
Now this change was welcome but it also represented a great challenge for me. My wife became a selfless creature, a veritable saint, and I remained an oafish man. Men, you will remember, are slow to change. Change has been hard and I must admit that I miss that woman that I once married. Fortunately though, unlike the "change" preached by political candidates, this change was as rewarding as it was palpable. I needed my wife to be a mother because it was the only way I could ever learn to be a father. I learn from the way she lives. She is my example. Her goodness is that cold bucket of water that I desperately need to awaken me from my spitirual lethargy. So on this Mother's Day I thank her. Thank you for waking me up. Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for your patience and sacrifice. Some day you won't have to wait any more.
