Becoming a mother, is quite honestly the most humbling, grounding, growth inspiring process I have ever undergone. More than that, becoming a mother, awakened my heart. It awakened my heart in a way that nothing else probably ever could. I still remember the tidal wave of emotions that came over me as I held my first son (and my second!) after he was born. Looking into his eyes, gazing up at me, his tiny fingers grasping my mountainous hands in comparison to his. His fragility. His need for me. It was the most momentous ambush of love that I have ever experienced in my life. Pure Love.
And then, the following day there was also fear.
Why fear? Because I loved him so much. I loved him so much, and I was the humble caretaker of this little human who depended on me for everything for quite some time. This love, was so powerful, so awe inspiring, so much bigger than me, all I could do was surrender to it. And I cried, and cried, and cried out of deep motherly love for my son. He awakened my heart to unconditional love. To loving because I love. Because I love to love him. And I feared how much pain could be caused from loving so deeply because losing that love is the scariest thing in the Universe!
To be a mother for me, has been to feel, deeply. And to feel, means to heal. It means to grieve. It means to love so deep. It means feeling ALL OF IT.
Seeing all the terrible news stories all up in our news feeds these past few years (stories that have been going on a long time, they’re just more in our face) is tremendously hard to feel. And today, I heard a story of an infant falling off a bridge. My heart literally felt like it was going to crack at the pain of feeling what those parents must feel, and then feeling the fragility of life, that it could happen to anyone. I could barely muster feeling that. But I did. To feel the very real possibility of the pain of losing a child which can happen to anyone, we don’t ever know how life is going to go. These feelings are the hardest for me. Earlier this week I learned of the loss of a beautiful mother in our community. A beautiful, soulful, loving, compassionate, light beam. Her children and father left behind, to grieve, and pick up the pieces, and thankfully our community is holding them. Yet still the pain is real. The grief is real. The loss, is real. And that, could happen to any of us. These feelings, they hurt. They hurt so very deep. They burn.
Yet all I can do, is feel them, welcome them, and embrace that life, with an open heart, means feeling. It means pain. It means grief. It also means tremendous love. It means deep wells of compassion. It means your heart swelling because of the way your son looked at you tonight. It means twinkles in your heart when your son sings twinkle twinkle little star to you with all the joy in his heart because he knows all the words now. It means crying when you watch your favorite horseman riding to one of your newest favorite songs because it’s just beautiful to see man and horse as one. It means feeling gratitude for simple presence. It means feeling. This open heart, it’s scary stuff. I feel more now than ever, since I became a mother. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because the love-the love soothes the grief, and the pain that comes with living, and the inevitable suffering that comes with being human and having your knocks.
To be a mother, to me it’s to feel. It’s to be human.
It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. It’s also the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a darn thing. This love. It’s a gift. It’s a blessed gift.
So, I do my best. To feel it all. Even though there’s a lot of painful things happening around me (us). A lot of deep intense grief and pain. I do my best to feel it so I can respond to it if that is needed. Rather than shut down and want it to go away. So, I can respond to others who are suffering. And so, I can ask for help when I am. To feel, is to heal. It’s also to grieve. It’s also, to love. It’s all of it. I wouldn’t change it for anything.