In honor of Mother’s Day, I’m sharing a rather humorous conversation that I recently had with a long-distance friend via text (with her permission). I hope you find it as entertaining as I do. While the names have been changed to protect anonymity, the story is completely true.

Friend: So I hate to dump on you but I need prayer. And advice from afar.

Me: Oh no, what is it? PS. You are NEVER dumping on me.

Friend: My pelvic pain? 99% sure I am pregnant. VERY unexpectedly, and dangerously … I have an IUD. I have a doctor’s apt. tomorrow, but I don’t know whether I should tell Adam (editor’s note: Adam is my friend’s husband) or wait until confirmation. Part of me wants share it with him, but part of me feels I shouldn’t because of his already high stress and pain levels.

Me: Oh my goodness. Prayers steadfastly going up, but I’m at a loss on the advice part for the reasons you cited. My first response is yes, tell him. Don’t deprive him the opportunity to be there for you. But I see why you’re hesitant.

Friend: We talked about possibly adopting an older child one day. We say all the time that we are so not into babies, so glad that is behind us. Our medical bills are already insane. Our medical debt is a house payment every month. I am old. I had scary placental abruption with Abby and vowed I would never have another. I know God has got this, truly I do, but I am still freaking on so many levels.

Me: Don’t freak yet. Did you take a test?

Friend: Yes. Faint plus line, but present. Just like all three previous pregnancies :-/

{Insert texted picture of positive pregnancy test here}.

Friend: The thing is…and I realize I am an idiot like a bad TV show…I think I am FAR along, because what inspired me to take the test was that in the middle of the night I think I felt movement.

Me: Oh boy. Okay. Well there is this: if you are pregnant in spite of an IUD, there has to be a good reason. I know that’s not what you want to hear.

Friend: Haha. Isnt’ that the truth?! God is so laughing at me and the plans I made, what I thought I knew.

Me: Can you not get into the doc’s office today?

Friend: He’s out today.

Me: Well, we’ll both be in prayer until tomorrow then. And also? Stay away from Google in the meantime. You’re only going to get yourself worked up!

Friend: Yesterday I started writing a blog post about something similar. The International Down Syndrome Coalition posted about abortion two days ago, and then your blog post yesterday….made me think of when my doc offered me a test last time I was pregnant. I didn’t have it done and he said he and his wife never did either, because they vowed to “love, feed, clothe, and take to church whomever God sent their way”. That’s when I knew I loved him. And yes, I will try not to Google. I have a good doc and I trust him implicitly, so we’ll see what he says.

Me: That’s awesome. And also, I can totally hear God’s voice in what you’ve been reading online. Years from now, you’ll think back to all these little signs and know with certainty why they were sent. Love you!

Friend: Love you, too!

Continued the next day ...

Me: Praying for you today. Let me know how the apt. goes.

Three hours later…

Friend: I am 22 weeks pregnant with TWINS. And I am not even joking.

Me: Oh my heavens. I have no words.

Me: Are you going to be able to carry them?

Friend: He thinks yes. Did a mini ultrasound. Can’t see or fell the IUD so it can’t be removed. I am having a full ultrasound in a couple of hours to get a date. And genders, hopefully.

Me: Oh my good gracious. I just don’t know what to say but for congratulations. Is Adam with you?

Friend: No, he isn’t. I decided to wait and surprise him. Now I am afraid I will give him a stroke.

Me: Oh friend. Heads up: you need to document every step of the way starting now. You’ll have a best seller on your hands!

Two hours later…

Friend: Ok, any gender guesses?

Me: Two more girls?

Friend: Two boys! We had talked about adopting an older boy. Maybe gender will help Adam with the shock. Doc guesses I have at most three months before delivery.

Me: Wow. Talk about a shocker of a day. But ah!!! Yay! You’re going to love mothering boys! Just make sure Adam is sitting down when you deliver the news.

Friend: No kidding. Going to pour him a stiff drink first.

This texted conversation took place two-and-a-half months ago. Mom and (a very shocked) dad are now excitedly awaiting the birth of twin baby boys, due to be a Mother’s Day blessing any day now.

Growing up, my relationship with my mother was stereotypical in many ways. As a rebellious teen, I’d find myself staring down a punishment I didn’t like or a rule I didn’t want to follow and—in opposition-- I’d voice how differently I would do things when I became a mother. Without fail, she’d smile a knowing smile and nod pleasantly. “I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” she’d say.

It wouldn’t be long before I had the opportunity to prove myself; I became a mother at the tender age of sixteen. In spite of my youth, mothering instincts took hold and I found myself acting in ways both protective and nurturing, fierce and gentle. Upon giving birth, something clicked within me and quite suddenly all of those parenting opinions I so recently touted seemed altogether wrong. I kept my mouth shut, of course, hoping that my mom wouldn’t call me on my change of heart.

No such luck.

Nevertheless, I’m a firm believer in the circle of life. In raising my own children, I’ve offered plenty of advice and predictions, sure as could be that my words would eventually prove true, much like those of my mother before me. When my oldest daughter was seven, I predicted that by the time she was in eighth grade, she’d be too embarrassed to trick-or-treat anymore—that she’d rather stay home and help me pass out the Halloween candy. But when October of that eighth grade year rolled around, indeed she was eager to dress up and go door to door. I might have thought she was only doing it to prove me wrong, but her friends were every bit as eager.

I’d love to be able to chalk it up to a simple mistake, but over and over again I find my words coming back to bite me.

Last Friday that same daughter had her wisdom teeth extracted. Oh, and that was an experience I knew all about! Not wanting her to be in for an unpleasant surprise, I warned her about the misery she was surely in store for. “I couldn’t eat normal food for weeks,” I truthfully told her. “That was the hardest part.”

“Not for me,” my husband chimed in. “The hardest part for me was the pain. That was the worst pain I’ve ever been in.”

These were not meant to be like those exaggerated walk-uphill-both-ways-barefoot type of stories. These were our true experiences, offered genuinely in the name of preparedness. You can imagine our surprise, then, when my daughter’s experience was far different. Far better, in fact. Even in spite of a dry socket setback, she bounced back from that surgery like it was a cakewalk. Not willing to admit defeat, I take partial credit for her easy experience; surely my dire warnings made her recovery painless in comparison. Or something like that.

I fear I’m beginning to sound a lot like the boy who cried wolf. And I can’t help but wonder if maybe all that motherly wisdom skipped a generation—namely mine. Lucky for me, I’ve cast a wide net. Surely something I’ve said will prove true. Eventually.

I remember that when my kids were very young, refereeing arguments between them accounted for a decent chunk of my time. Now that they’re maturing, I typically step back and let the minor disputes between them run course until they fizzle and fade quietly away. Most often that sounds a lot like two bedroom doors being abruptly shut as they go their separate ways. Sometimes it’s even more visual. When my six-year-old son has a disagreement with one of his sisters, his aggression is typically played out in post-it notes. He pencils stick-figure drawings of the perceived offense, along with the command to: Stop being mean! Depending upon the severity of the situation, the offender might come to find ten or more post-it notes stuck to her bedroom door.

Such was not the case most recently, though. Most recently, the dispute was between my oldest two. I can’t say for sure what was at the root of the argument. I can only say that I was called in after dinner one night to order the dish washer to rinse the clean dishes and place them on the towel beside the sink so that the dish dryer could proceed with her duty. Neither was willing to compromise on this, the sticking point that prevented them from completing their joint chore of after-dinner cleanup. Because they are eighteen and fifteen, I wasn’t exactly inclined to step in. Instead, I calmly informed them that neither would leave the kitchen until the job was complete. I then took my leave, fingers crossed that they’d figure it out on their own.

From the next room, it didn’t sound promising. Although I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I continued to hear back and forth bickering where the gentle clank of dishes and closing of cupboards should have been. But within five minutes the bickering gave way to lowered voices, though I could still detect a tone of disharmony. Within ten minutes, I heard the distinct pitch of a tearful voice. When twenty minutes had gone by, finally came that gentle clank of dishes and the closing of cupboard doors I had hoped to hear.

The disagreement had delayed them. By the time they were finished with the chore, my bedtime had come and gone. I was reading in bed when my husband slipped in his spot next to me with a report on what he’d witnessed during his bedtime routine of feeding the dog and turning off the last of the lights. Those two sisters, who an hour before were threatening never again to speak to one another, had come together in big sister’s bedroom and were talking in hushed tones. The next morning when I awoke, I noticed that just before little sister had gone to bed the night before, she’d posted something sweet on big sister’s Facebook wall: the modern day greeting card.

As a mom, I’ve learned that there are some things you simply have to teach. And then other things, that you simply can’t—better to let them learn for themselves.

If you spend any time on Facebook or Pinterest you’ve likely seen a number of those clever cartoons—the ones that depict old-timey characters beside a mostly tongue-in-cheek phrase meant to elicit laughs and, of course, little thumb-up likes. Lately, I’ve noticed a relatively new addition to the virtual pictograms making the social media rounds. These are less tongue-in-cheek, more “inspirational”, and are quickly gaining momentum. The version I’m referring to typically feature a background image—a beach or the sun shining through an evergreen forest, for example—offset by a short sentiment that offers dime-store advice on how to live: Always smile back at little children. To ignore them is to destroy their belief that the world is good. There are variations, of course. Come to think of it, I seem to have an inordinate number of Facebook friends who post not-so-discreet comebacks seemingly aimed at the opposite end of a failed relationship: You had me at hello, lost me at goodbye, and everything in between was nothing, but a lie. So, too, are there the Stuart Smalley variety of motivational quotes: Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.

I’m not saying that no merit exists in inspirational quotes. It does. But I can’t help but wonder if this barrage of fluff is maybe softening the next generation a little too much. Yesterday, one of my friends posted one of those inspirational cartoons to her Facebook page. It read: Whatever makes you feel bad, leave it. Whatever makes you smile, keep it. Great advice, if you aspire to be like Justin Bieber, throwing a Twitter tantrum every time something doesn’t go exactly the way you want it to.

Enter: reality.

I don’t claim to currently possess all the wisdom I’ll ever have. But here in my mid-thirties, I can definitely look back and identify challenging times in my life. Are those the times that bring to mind warm fuzzy memories? Admittedly, no. Do I wish I would have simply checked out during those challenges that made me “feel bad?” Most assuredly not.

If each of us coasted through life, opting only to be present in the moments of ease we’d miss out on many an opportunity for growth. Were I to fill the Facebook feeds of my children with the messages I want to sink in, they’d find quotes on perseverance, dedication, and endurance. Less of the sunshine and perpetual rainbows that promote giving up when the going gets tough. Hard things, after all, grow us. Now there’s a sentiment worthy of a Pinterest pictogram.