My Child: The Biggest And Most Beautiful Work Of Art Of My Life

” My child is the greatest work of art of my life.” You’ve probably heard this phrase before – or something similar – to a mother group, in the waiting room at the hospital, or with the neighbors. But no matter how mothers choose to say it, the underlying feeling is clear. My child is the greatest work of art.

And it’s not trivial. Whether you are blessed with an artistic talent or not, no major work of art or creation is a miracle of life itself. 

This masterpiece takes nine months to make and a lifetime to develop.

My child, a work of art

Think about it: a mother begins to attach to her child, even while the child is still in the womb. She feels how this creature, who is still so dependent on her body, takes on life herself.

And she knows that this little child, who was once a part of her, understands her better than anyone else.

Your child feels your pain, just like they once felt your heartbeat inside you.

They know your strength because they felt your fatigue and heard the deep breaths that followed. They felt how you fought for what once seemed impossible.

Children come into the world armed and protected with this knowledge. Although your child may seem defenseless, their small, wonderful bodies even contain the secrets of life. 

My child, my greatest work of art, is able to move me.

My child possesses the strength, power and supernatural gift to transport me back in time even though I am present here thinking about the future.

They form all three forms in a single moment through a simple act of love: motherhood.

Infants inspire tenderness and innocence within us. Their ability to create peace in our busy lives surpasses the power of any work of art. Their little jokes and expressions are more fascinating than Mona Lisa’s smile.

My child surpasses any work of art

The scent of my child’s skin, their cheeky pranks and everything they express in their gaze: this is greater than any work of art. 

It is strange and fascinating to see a child grow up.

It is more disturbing to see my child experience conflict, feel hopelessness or frustration than any painting by Van Gogh or Munch. With their various forms of behavior in public and at home, my child is more multidimensional than a cubist portrait of Picasso.

The arrival of a child can change your concepts of the sublime and masterful. There is no museum that is capable of containing anything so magical. And there is no work of art that can compare itself with the truth. This is a work of art that expresses so much but inspires even more.

The traction of childhood is impossible to resist. My child is my greatest masterpiece. I am a typical mother, enchanted by the creature that has become the master of her life.

Immerse yourself in this work of art. Let go of yourself. A kiss, a hug or a simple “I love you, mom” is enough to knock your legs off under you.

After all, your child is the fruit of your love, the incarnation of your shared hope.

Stop by and appreciate your child. Observe all the details and take it all in. Feel blessed over all their virtues, and accept their small faults.

Enjoy their beauty. Discover the true meaning of boundless love.