What I would say to a 30-year-old Mom. Me.

Young Mamas listen to me. Old Mamas tell your young Mamas. This may be the most important thing you read today.

In 1990 I was ten years into a television broadcasting career on a national network. I traveled the world interviewing interesting people, I sat on the set of a live television show watched by millions each day. I signed autographs and was invited to speak to women’s groups about being a wife and mother, though I was neither. I lived for a time in Jerusalem and co-hosted a news program out of the Middle East. I was 30. I was told I was destined for “great things.” And I believed I was. I was told my career would change lives. And I believed it would. I was a big deal in a small corner of my world and I thought it would go on forever. It was my due and my destiny. Which is the kind of verbiage one uses when one is 30 and naive and life hasn’t kicked you in the a—- yet.

In 1989 I got pregnant. I was in a shaky marriage and I wasn’t sure this was a good thing. My colleagues expressed excitement (after all, my reporting aired on The Family Channel) but I was soon to learn that the congratulations came with conditions. No one could know I was pregnant. There were veiled and direct warnings that I was not to gain weight. One of my videographers told me he was instructed to make sure “Kathy’s pregnancy was never in a shot…” I was asked by senior reporters if I was sure I would “be happy” as a Mom and was I lining up child care? How quickly would I come back to my “change the world” work?

Today, at age 66, I would tell them all to go to hell. But at age 30, in the television business, a young woman thinks “they” are right. Even justified. I’m on TV. My face is the product. No one wants to watch a fat woman on television (even if that fat is because of a human being growing inside.) The message is clear: Pregnancy might be a normal part of life, but if it gets in the way of our product, we’d rather you didn’t. In my world, a baby came with a side of shame. I’m doing something “less than.” I’m impinging on the “good thing.” I’m off the trajectory of “world changing.”

And I believed it. Until January 23, 1990 when Jordan Andrew Chiero was born. MY world was changed. When it came time to go back on the reporting road I couldn’t leave this precious boy. Against corporate policy I took him with me for the first 12 months. My hero-videographers (many of them dads themselves) helped me in my clandestine rebellion by generously and willingly hauling that carseat from rental car to rental car and putting Jordan on the luggage cart at every hotel check-in. They went out of their way and schedule to allow me to drop off and pick up Jordan at babysitters that I lined up in cities across the country. They kept my secret. And I love them for it to this day.

Fast forward. In five years I had three children. Lindsay Leigh and Christian Alan. In 1997 I got laid off by my employer. I was told it was a financial decision. I was told by a more honest superior that they no longer liked “my look.” Understood. I didn’t like my “look” either. I eventually gained 100 pounds - the result of a horrible marriage and struggling to find that lost Kathy that held the world (that she was ostensibly ‘changing’) in her hands.

But the love I lost for myself was overwhelmingly recompensed by the love I had for Jordan, Lindsay, and Christian. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was really, really hard. I was very lonely. This woman who used to have her hair and makeup professionally done to speak to millions now went sans make up to Krogers to talk to the check out clerk. High highs and low lows. Tears. Tears that were released because words couldn’t describe the love I had for them. And tears because they weren’t turning out the way I self-righteously predicted in those long ago Women’s Bible Studies. I was horribly imperfect at this mother-thing. I was so much better at television.

Today. And if you have read this far, thank you. Because here is my message for you, young Mama. What you are doing is SO hard. And you ARE imperfect. But make no mistake. Focusing on that baby, child, teenager is NOT a mistake. You have ALREADY changed the world when you gave birth to that incredible human being. There is no audience at 2:00 a.m and you haven’t slept in days. There is no accolade for leaving work because you got the call that your child is sick. There is no one giving you a bonus because you managed to make your budget stretch to allow for the dinosaur cake that he wanted. No one asks for your autograph when they cross the stage with a diploma. In an age where success it measured in likes - your sacrifice doesn’t get boosted. Your video of that first home run won’t go viral. And most of the time no one is “following” you - except that toddler. Even into the bathroom.

Here is a truth from 30 years ahead of you. Jobs are important. They can be fulfilling. It can put food on the table. But a day is coming when your job will be gone. Your employer’s opinion won’t matter. The deadline that caused you anxiety will not be remembered. I learned that at the office I was imminently replaceable. The only job for which you are irreplaceable happens in your home. You will look back to see that all the people-pleasing was an exhausting exercise in futility. When your hair is gray in your family picture and your children are standing taller than you (with their children) you will realize that the only thing that matters is what you poured into them. You traded the temporal for the eternal. You, indeed, changed the world.

No kids? Estranged relationships? Pour into others. Eschew the temporal. Grasp the eternal. You are a gift and there is always someone who needs to receive it. Write your eulogy in your giving to others.

My critics? They are dead or almost. My weight? I continue to struggle. My reward? Three adults, their spouses/partners and grand babies who love me, like me, and thank me. There is a richness in my wealth that surpasses what any profession could give me. It just took me a few decades to realize it. NOW let me teach the Bible study. I actually have something to say.