I wrote this, in my trusty journal, almost exactly 2 years ago today. Daniel, my son, who is now just over 2 years old, was a tiny babe in arms, and I was pulsing with the love and mystery that being a new mother brings.
And I had another idea, inspired by my sister-in-law Anna, and that was to create a group of women (online perhaps) to talk about the themes of motherhood, to appreciate and support one another's simple accomplishments (like doing the laundry and not going insane...all in the same day!).
So here is the entry. I hope you enjoy it:
Sister Goddess Carla Duren, singing "Ostrich" www.carladuren.com
Over the course of the past few weeks, there has been this slow motion let down, the slowing of the train, so to speak, and my heart, which was set wide open by the wind, has been cooled in these past stagnant, swelling days of the approaching summer. I guess I expected to come out the other side of birth as a remarkably different and deeper woman; that people on the streets would see the brightness emanating from my every pore; that others would somehow recognize the hugeness of the feat I have recently accomplished.
But they do not see it and thus pass right on by, barely noticing this woman, me, who is just "another woman with a baby." These feelings have been unspoken and unnamed, lumped into a tighty category of "postpartum depression" as many other women tell me how they felt down for no particular reason at all. But there isn't "no reason." What women who have just given birth need is CELEBRATION, ACKNOWLEDGMENT for the HUGE, MIRACULOUS event that have just navigated successfully.
And Mother's Day just doesn't cut it!
I am looking for the magic in life and in motherhood. It is my life line, my tie to all that is important and worthy of focusing on in this life. (By magic I don't mean pixie dust and faeries; I point to the potent powerful source a woman enters into during labor and the juice that is carried forth into the day-to-dayness of being alive.) I have turned to books. I have looked to inspirational speakers. I have a voracious hunger for this! And I'm not stopping till I cultivate it and can tap into this source regularly.
I have turned every direction except to face myself in the mirror long enough to see that I AM THE ONE who must first acknowledge the change, the crescendo of knowing that is coming, not in a single wave but in digestible daily doses, in all that is seemingly mundane about motherhood, in every suck from my breast, every diaper change and sleepy coo-sound.
To be a new mother is exhaustingly and surprisingly demanding and incredibly rewarding. It is standing at the edge of an open abyss and jumping in, knowing there is no end, no bottom in sight, but you do it anyway. This much I can already see and understand.
Last night I dreamed of escape and drowning, of mysterious symbols scripted on foggy mirrors, written by unseen hands. What is the dreamtime telling me? What can I learn from these images, that come during the 3-hour cat naps?
Right after giving birth, I felt a part of some other dimension, a brighter seamless reality. That was when I felt anything was possible. Was it just a hormonal displacement kicked into high gear? Was there nothing truly magical about what I felt and saw inside LIFE? I refuse to believe this. A belief or thought like this is quick to kill the spirit of life.
I desire to walk in the forest, feel the silky fern tips brushing against my bare legs, to carry Daniel there and be open to messages that enter my mind in these wild spaces.
Thank you for reading this. Thank you for your support and appreciation.
And I had another idea, inspired by my sister-in-law Anna, and that was to create a group of women (online perhaps) to talk about the themes of motherhood, to appreciate and support one another's simple accomplishments (like doing the laundry and not going insane...all in the same day!).
So here is the entry. I hope you enjoy it:
Sister Goddess Carla Duren, singing "Ostrich" www.carladuren.com
Over the course of the past few weeks, there has been this slow motion let down, the slowing of the train, so to speak, and my heart, which was set wide open by the wind, has been cooled in these past stagnant, swelling days of the approaching summer. I guess I expected to come out the other side of birth as a remarkably different and deeper woman; that people on the streets would see the brightness emanating from my every pore; that others would somehow recognize the hugeness of the feat I have recently accomplished.
But they do not see it and thus pass right on by, barely noticing this woman, me, who is just "another woman with a baby." These feelings have been unspoken and unnamed, lumped into a tighty category of "postpartum depression" as many other women tell me how they felt down for no particular reason at all. But there isn't "no reason." What women who have just given birth need is CELEBRATION, ACKNOWLEDGMENT for the HUGE, MIRACULOUS event that have just navigated successfully.
And Mother's Day just doesn't cut it!
I am looking for the magic in life and in motherhood. It is my life line, my tie to all that is important and worthy of focusing on in this life. (By magic I don't mean pixie dust and faeries; I point to the potent powerful source a woman enters into during labor and the juice that is carried forth into the day-to-dayness of being alive.) I have turned to books. I have looked to inspirational speakers. I have a voracious hunger for this! And I'm not stopping till I cultivate it and can tap into this source regularly.
I have turned every direction except to face myself in the mirror long enough to see that I AM THE ONE who must first acknowledge the change, the crescendo of knowing that is coming, not in a single wave but in digestible daily doses, in all that is seemingly mundane about motherhood, in every suck from my breast, every diaper change and sleepy coo-sound.
To be a new mother is exhaustingly and surprisingly demanding and incredibly rewarding. It is standing at the edge of an open abyss and jumping in, knowing there is no end, no bottom in sight, but you do it anyway. This much I can already see and understand.
Last night I dreamed of escape and drowning, of mysterious symbols scripted on foggy mirrors, written by unseen hands. What is the dreamtime telling me? What can I learn from these images, that come during the 3-hour cat naps?
Right after giving birth, I felt a part of some other dimension, a brighter seamless reality. That was when I felt anything was possible. Was it just a hormonal displacement kicked into high gear? Was there nothing truly magical about what I felt and saw inside LIFE? I refuse to believe this. A belief or thought like this is quick to kill the spirit of life.
I desire to walk in the forest, feel the silky fern tips brushing against my bare legs, to carry Daniel there and be open to messages that enter my mind in these wild spaces.
Thank you for reading this. Thank you for your support and appreciation.
No comments:
Post a Comment