A Quote by Vera Brittain

The joys of motherhood are not excessively apparent during the first few weeks of a baby's life. — © Vera Brittain
The joys of motherhood are not excessively apparent during the first few weeks of a baby's life.
I felt this during the first few months of my motherhood. You lose who you are - you lose your identity - because when your baby comes, you give, give, give, and no one gives back, and you just wonder, 'Who am I?' 'What am I?' 'How do I live life now?' It's all for this baby.
I was so used to seeing so many women in the media flaunting their bodies 4 weeks after having a baby - and kudos to those who have genes that they can get right back into shape 2 weeks, 4 weeks after having a baby. But that never happened to me, and I remember going to my doctor asking why.
According to Ethiopian custom, parents wait to name a baby because children often die in the first weeks of life.
A woman's decision to carry a baby to term knowing that she will not reap the fruits of motherhood should be treated as an act of bravery and selflessness - the ultimate standards of good motherhood.
Every few weeks, I'd really be worn down. The doctor said just take time off, but it became apparent that the exercise you need to be a top-level athlete brought the symptoms on.
If I could have made the change sooner I daresay I should never have given a thought to the literary delights of Paris or London; for life in the country is the only state which has always completely satisfied me, and I had never been allowed to gratify it, even for a few weeks at a time. Now I was to know the joys of six or seven months a year among fields and woods of my own, and the childish ecstasy of that first spring outing at Mamaroneck swept away all restlessness in the deep joy of communion with the earth.
Life begins at six--at least in the minds of six-year-olds. . . . In kindergarten you are the baby. In first grade you put down the baby. . . . Every first grader knows in some osmotic way that this is real life. . . . First grade is the first step on the way to a place in the grown-up world.
Let's just call what happened in the eighties the reclamation of motherhood . . . by women I knew and loved, hard-driving women with major careers who were after not just babies per se or motherhood per se, but after a reconciliation with their memories of their own mothers. So having a baby wasn't just having a baby. It became a major healing.
Why must the woman apologize for not having a baby just because she happened to get pregnant? It's as if we think motherhood is the default setting for a woman's life from first period to menopause, and she needs a note from God not to say yes to every zygote that knocks on her door.
One of my great joys in life is being a pilot. There is a great sense of freedom in soaring through the sky. You get a different perspective up there. Seeing things that aren't so apparent from the ground.
Sure baby, mañana. It was always mañana. For the next few weeks that was all I heard––mañana a lovely word and one that probably means heaven.
I was able to do concerts all the way up until two weeks before I had the baby; I thought I was stopping a month ahead, but he was three weeks early.
Those who think are excessively few; and those few do not set themselves to disturb the world.
I have always found that if I came in excessively prepared, emphasis on excessively, that was sort of the best case I could make for myself.
One baby is a patient baby, and waits indefinitely until its mother is ready to feed it. The other baby is an impatient baby and cries lustily, screams and kicks and makes everybody unpleasant until it is fed. Well, we know perfectly well which baby is attended to first. That is the whole history of politics.
The magic of landing my first role on Broadway went 'poof' in a matter of a few weeks.
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