The Mother in Me: Real-World Reflections on Growing Into Motherhood

This is a lovely collection of essays on the joys and trials of motherhood. I particularly loved "Was Barbie From the Triassic Period?". In her essay, Justine Clarice Dorton, masterfully combines honesty, humor and dedication to her faith, to make a charming, poignant and very human story that any person trying to do their best in this world, mother or not, can relate to.

Motherhood is complex, yet simple. It is exhausting, yet rewarding. It is heartbreaking, yet joyful. It is life changing and fulfilling. This collection of poems and essays will leave you full of the joys of mothering but understanding there are days of sorrow. Cry, laugh, nod in agreement, and be grateful you aren't alone. These stories will bring that to the forefront. Anyone who has been a mother, who has yet to become one, who is in the throes of day to day parenting, or who has yearned for motherhood through the pain of infertility will find something with which to identify. Each story is individual, yet global; we can all see ourselves in some, if not most of the essays and poems. Kathryn Lyndard Soper brings them all together in a flowing fashion. The various authors are women in various stages of their lives who share with startling candour what motherhood is really like. Prepare to enjoy it from start to end.

My copy of _The Mother in Me_ arrived this afternoon, and, not being being an angel mother, I plopped down and read it while my older boys ran wild outside and the baby played, nursed, and napped in my arms. I bet my afternoon was better than yours. Because _The Mother in Me_ is a very good book. It's simply a compilation of essays and poetry from the _Segullah_ women on motherhood, specifically young motherhood. I usually avoid motherhood books because they annoy me. But this one didn't, not at all. Maybe it's because it's written by women who are in my stage of life. Or because these women don't make motherhood angelic or messy or whiney, just real. I don't think I've ever been reading something about motherhood where I thought "I know exactly what she's talking about." I can often relate, but I've rarely found something where the author has had an experience just like one of my own until this afternoon. The essays here cover such a wide range of emotions and experiences and are so clearly written that I'd imagine many different women might find that perfect match too. I did have one quibble with the layout though. There were too many words crowded onto a page with the longer poems. Johnna Benson Cornett's "origami birds," for example, felt right, but her "no time" was packed onto one page and it was difficult to read. Anyway, this is all to say that this little book covers a huge range of experiences. It's by women who are there, right now, with little children. They don't blame, they don't give advice. It's simply a celebration of motherhood and the women who make it possible, despite everything that might make it seem impossible.

I am almost done with "the mother in me" and it has been an incredible journey. Thank you from the depths of my soul for the validation, encouragement, laughs, tears, and moments of poignant reflection. Well done ladies, well done.

A few years ago when I was in the throes of raising five little boys, a well-meaning neighbor dropped a book about depression and various medications in my mailbox. I was surprised. Exhausted? Yes. Overwhelmed? Absolutely. Depressed? Maybe. But I'd rather talk about it with my husband and doctor than receive a diagnosis in the midst of catalogs and bills. From my friends and neighbors I simply wanted understanding; I wanted to feel less alone. Today, I found the book that I wish had been placed in my mailbox on that rainy autumn day. The Mother in Me: Real World Reflections of Growing into Motherhood is an anthology of prose, poems and photographs by 29 Mormon mothers who capture the beauty, heartache, backbreaking workload and profound joys of motherhood. As I turned each page I marveled at each woman's honesty and found myself nodding my head, "Yes, yes, I've felt exactly that way." My stomach churned in an essay about morning sickness, I empathized with the mother who couldn't give enough attention to each child and I cried for a stillborn baby boy. The poetry in my own life became evident as I read verses describing childbirth, sleepless nights, sibling love and true play. I love that women in the trenches wrote this book while they were smack in the middle of babies and car seats, diapers and play dates. Too many mothering books are penned in retrospect and lose the fresh, real honesty of life right NOW. Already, I've given away the crib and our strollers are gathering dust as I move onto the next (and I believe easier!) stage of motherhood. Already, I'm forgetting the grueling sleepless nights and endless screaming jags. Already, sadly, I strain to recall the smell of a newborn's hair and the magic of a toddler's first steps. Bless you, Mother in Me for helping me remember. I'd like a stack of books to give away: one for Heidi who just had her first baby, a copy for Sharon who is mothering three tiny ones, another for my dear friend Kit who spent seven years in infertility clinics begging God for a baby and then felt guilty when she discovered mothering is ridiculously HARD. Julie is so sick with her 4th pregnancy that she may have to lay on my bed while I read to her. And Amy? Amy came over tonight borrowing a dress. Our conversation quickly dissolved into tears as she cried, "I am ruining my children! What am I doing wrong as a mother? Everyone else is so pulled together. What's wrong with me?" We talked and wept and I sent her home with my new book. Tonight she's too busy bathing, brushing and nursing to read it...but she'll pick it up one rainy day and know I love her. She'll know she is not alone.