I remember something magical happening when my sister became a mother. The birth of her first baby came shortly after moving to a new town far away from any family where she had no friends and knew no one. Her husband of less than a year was hard at work in establishing a new business and her mobility was extremely limited from a traumatic birthing experience. I like to think of circumstances like this as pressure cookers for sanctification. For her, that really was the case. I watched as she became the most selfless person I knew. 

#MOTHERHOODISSANCTIFYING

A few years later as we anticipated the arrival of our first child, I was excited about what the refining fire of motherhood would produce in me. I was hopeful for a similar effect. In my mind mothers were sort of saintly by virtue. It was inevitable. I was about to become the most stable, selfless, preference-less, and sacrificial version of myself. Right?