Motherhood and Feigning Grace
My first born will turn four next week.
It didn’t truly hit me until we went to test out real, big kid bikes yesterday.
Suddenly, seeing him on that bike made me realize in that moment that he’s a kid now. I disguised my teary eyes and smiled proudly as he peddled around the store, completely elated.
It’s made me feel reflective and grateful for what we’ve learned in the past four years.
Motherhood, for me, has not only been a journey in the inspiration and influence on the creation of little lives, it has also been a passage through self awareness and exploration.
When my first child was born, navigating through the process of shedding one layer of self involvement and shifting my focus to a tiny, dependent being was something of a rebirth of me as well.
I think back to the days before my children were born, and I feel as though I barely know the person that I was. The confidence that I never really had in myself is now evident and universe altering. It’s a constant evolution, learning and accepting that I am the axis by which our world rotates, and they are the sun. As they grow through their toddler hood, we are learning daily how to communicate with each other. Deep in my core I know that they are becoming beautiful little people, but the level of fear that I feel is sometimes debilitating. It’s feeling of knowing that no matter what, the days will come and go and we learn and grow with them… doing the best I can as a parent with the tools that I was given as a child myself.
Perhaps it’s the age that I am or point of life I’m in, but I’ve never examined my own upbringing as much as I do now. I think of the things that happened in my life, and the people that formed who I am today and wonder how much of it is affecting my own children. Sometimes going with gut instinct alone isn’t the best way to handle situations, and as a mother, questioning instinct is very futile ground. Deciding when to use informed or innate choices in life is where I’ve both struggled and learned the most.
It wasn’t until I removed myself from the place that I knew and was most comfortable that I really learned who I am. First when I was 7, again when I was 30, and when my first child was born. Each time my world collapsed almost entirely, for better or for worse, though likely a little of both.
I’m in the honeymoon stage of my life, or so it feels right now. My mother skin is evident and evolving into a tough exterior. Things are changing and incredible and overwhelming in so many ways. I’m trying desperately to find the ever elusive and fantastical “balance” that mothers speak so highly of but rarely attain. Yet I’m grateful to revel in the bittersweet moments in between that make up the daily life of a mother.
The key is being at peace, finding the joy and feigning grace in the journey towards it.