---------------------- Forwarded by Judy Hernandez/HOU/ECT on 05/18/2000 
12:26 PM ---------------------------


"SOCORRO HERNANDEZ" <SUHERNAN@LLGM.COM> on 05/18/2000 11:53:34 AM
To: <Judy.Hernandez@enron.com>, <irenepepe@hotmail.com>, 
<silviamanzanales@hotmail.com>, "JESSICA VEGA" <JVEGA@LLGM.COM>, "MARIA 
SOLIZ" <MSOLIZ@LLGM.COM>, "MARIA THOMPSON" <MTHOMPSO@LLGM.COM>, 
<bburrell@tmh.tmc.edu>
cc:  
Subject: A mother's thoughts


Hi ladies.  Even though mother's day has past, I thought you would enjoy 
reading this e-mail I received last week.  It's real good.

A Mother's Thoughts:

We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her 
husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she 
says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life, "I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more
spontaneous vacations...."

But that is not what I meant at all.  I look at my daughter, trying to
decide what to tell her.  I want her to know what she will never learn in 
childbirth classes.  I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child 
bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an 
emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.  I consider 
warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What 
if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash,every house fire will 
haunt her.  That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder 
if anything could be worse than watching your child die.  I look at her 
carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter
how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the
primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.  That an urgent call of "Mom!" 
will cause her to drop a souffl, or her best crystal without a moment's 
hesitation.  I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has 
invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.  
She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an 
important
business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell.  She will have 
to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make 
sure her baby is all right.  I want my daughter to know that everyday 
decisions will no longer be
routine.  That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room
rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right 
there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of 
independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a 
child molester may be lurking in that restroom.  However decisive she may be 
at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she 
will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about 
herself.  That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once 
she has a child.  That she would give it up in a moment to save her 
offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years-not to accomplish her 
own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.  I want her to know 
that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.  My 
daughter's relationship with her husband will change,
but not in the way she thinks.  I wish she could understand how much more you 
can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to 
play with his child.  I think she should know that she will fall in love with 
him again for reasons she would now find every unromantic.  I wish my 
daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who 
have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.  I hope she will 
understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become 
temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my
children's future.  I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of 
seeing your child learn to ride a bike.  I want to capture for her the belly 
laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first 
time.  I want  her to  taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.  My 
daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.

"You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, 
squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her,and
for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this 
most wonderful of callings.  This blessed gift from God that of being a 
Mother.

Please share this with a Mom that you know or a future Mom you know.