On the day you gave birth, I was so excited to meet that little bundle, but it was you who was paramount on my mind that day.
What is it about the nostalgia of your child doing something you remember doing, entering into a phase you’ve walked, on the cusp of so much more than they know or understand? But, mommas, we know.
We know because we have been there, are currently there, will always be there. W know how this is not a phase that waxes and wanes, it is permanent, forever changing us from the inside out.
So much changes in the body, mind and soul of a woman who becomes a mum. There is even science to back that up, as there is evidence that fetal cells can transfer into the mother’s body, living within the mother long beyond their birth. So, that little bundle, she is within you still, while also being on the outside.
The day before her birth I was thinking of you, in my mind. Thinking of how these are your last minutes and hours of an innocence of sorts. How you would awaken the next morning and be forward focused, heading out the door to go to the hospital, while you were unaware that there is no going back to life before motherhood, who you were before motherhood. That you would return to your home not just with a new creation, but as a new creation with a new filter for life.
You are going to see your baby girl each day and feel awe that is just about going to make you burst. Her needs will be paramount in your thoughts, even when you would just like a moment to yourself. I remember the words of my grandmother, when you were born,
“It is hard to put your husband first now.”
The good thing is that you and your husband now share this intoxicating love and devotion for this little human who shares your home, your hearts, and even your DNA. And the thing is, having a child changes every relationship from now onward, because you see everyone through the eyes of who you are, a human, a woman, a mum.
You will watch movies, ads, other video clips (even children’s programing) and find yourself responding differently. Tears may flow, anger may burn, a level of righteousness and advocacy you had never known may erupt from within. Your filter is changed, you see things through the protective view of a mum (and it will break your heart, warm your heart, grow your heart).
Her cry will move something in the core of your physical and mental being. And this will continue when she falls and bumps her head, when she doesn’t get what she wants, when you have to leave her in the care of another and she clings to you with arms (and sobs), when a peer rejects her, when she fails a test, when a first love breaks her heart, when she experiences loss and grief, when … she is about to become a mum.
You will encounter odd changes within yourself, physically too. Like riding amusement park rides and discovering that something changed within you because twirling around, and around, and around creates a while new nauseous response that you’d never experienced before. Or foods that you once loved (or disliked) tasting differently.
You will never be the same, my daughter. For now you too have a child, a daughter, and everything has changed. And it is the most amazing metamorphosis available to us. So, as you emerge from the cocoon that has prepared and brought you to this most beautiful altering, know that you have all that you need within you. And when this eternal transformation feels heavy, there are others that surround you, who have walked … are walking just ahead of you.
It is true
I was created in you.
It is also true
That you were created for me.
I owned your voice.
It was shaped and tuned to soothe me.
Your arms were molded
Into a cradle to hold me, to rock me.
The scent of your body was the air
Perfumed for me to breathe.
Mother,
During those early, dearest days
I did not dream that you had
A large life which included me,
For I had a life
Which was only you.
...
-Mother a Cradle to Hold
Maya Angelou
There are some changes that come with ‘time passing on’ (this is hubby’s way of referring to aging) that I quite like.
number(s) to identify and define my hair color 😉
It is a frequent occurrence that I glance at my hands, and have no idea whose hands they are. They surely cannot be mine, because mine do not look so … so … aged. Then I realize they move when and where I will them, and so they truly are my own.
itsawonderfilledlife 