Why I Can't... (Part I)

You need a license to drive a car, a motorcycle, and even one of those tiny little mopeds. You need a license to shoot an animal AND an annual permit and can only do it in a specific time of year. You need a license to own a gun. You need a license to run a business, just to sell things to other people. You need a license to build something and special permits that are appropriate for each county. You need a license to practice medicine. If you’re specially trained well enough, like Chuck Norris, you even need to register your hands as weapons. And you even need a license to catch a silly little fish. There are probably so many other things you need a license for that I am not aware of, so many trivial things that require a license. But any idiot can conceive a child and be responsible for that child’s life. Fish are more important than babies in the government’s eyes, apparently.

Anyone can make a baby. And most women think that the 40 weeks of carrying the child, and the labor we go through, automatically earns you the title of “Mother.”

But it doesn’t.

Because any crack-head can carry a baby, give birth, then leave that child in a dumpster. Any teenage couple can conceive a child, give birth in a park right across the street from a hospital, then have a friend help you run over that baby and hide the evidence of any such pregnancy until one of the 3 finally cracks and tells officials. Just anyone can kill her own child, wait 30 days before reporting her missing, and still get away with the murder AND walk free among us.

Mother is a name that is earned.

Mother is a title that deserves more respect than it gets. 

“Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.”

That quote holds more truth than most people realize, or even care to understand. A mother is the first person a baby comes to know. In most cases, her face is the first they recognize. Her voice is the most comforting. She is the guide, the teacher, the nurturer. Her kisses heal everything. Her hugs make all the hurt go away. She knows everything, and has all the answers. She listens to you, hears what your saying, and even hears what you’re not saying. She sees every freckle, is aware of every scar and how it happened, every memory is hers. She knows your cries, your fears, your emotions better than anyone. She’s a hero, an idol, an angel. 

Mother isn’t just a person who gives birth, and she certainly isn’t the person who’s supposed to walk away, run away, hide in a bottle, or leave you with everyone who will take you while she lives a separate life. 

"Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me in the end...

...I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There's only one thing you should know

I tried so hard and got so far
But in the end it doesn't even matter
I had to fall to lose it all
But in the end it doesn't even matter"

~linkin park