Last night I was breastfeeding my newborn when my 3.5 yr old then called for me cold and wanting a blanket. Then my partner in the next room, finding refuge from the guzzling sounds of breastfeeding requested a blanket for him also. As I juggle the requests/demands in the middle of the night there is a humble sense of fulfilment in keeping the boys warm and full.
Parenting has stretched me beyond belief. Nothing else has been so grounding and pushed me so fully into the world.
As I birthed my two boys, I also birthed myself further into the world. There is no escape with children. Although sometimes I do try ( chocolate, netflix and instagram provide brief pockets of distraction away from the sometimes mundane choirs of mothering).
Being a mama plants me two feet on the ground. A friend of mines dada once commented in his very aussie accent that for me parenting 'that will give er something to focus on'.
It has definately done that.
Pre kids I was a bit of a drifter who often spent summers high as a kite in love with that summers fling and winters indulging in pain and collapsing in sadness. Time was endless back then and a the palette of life completely mine.
Now time is to be shared and self sacrifice a daily ritual.
As I write this my eldest looks at me with his pleading blue eye's 'can we play?'
Mothering has been such a blessing to excavte my emotional body and bring old wounds to te surface. Regularl I feel stretched as my children grow I am forced to grow with them. To hold spce for there love, joy, pain and self expression.
My children are angels guiding me into my essence, my partner holding hands with me on this crazy journey. Dancing the days of caos and ecstasy.
Having children was always on my crads and friends could testamount my clucky maternal nature. Amidst the mountains of washing it is an absolute blessing to walk this planet as a mother.
Thankyou for the growth, the love and the raw rebirthing into the world I once ran away from.