I sat at my laptop just now to write and go through my usual routine. Open my email, take a gander at facebook, open my iTunes (I hardly do anything without music's companionship) and gaze out the window for a few minutes. This particular morning feels heavy and melancholy. Last night one of my baby's cries set something off inside of me and I sat up in bed and just began to cry. I don't like feeling sorry for myself, but I did. I felt tired, I felt my nipples so sore, and I wanted to reach for the imaginary PAUSE button to pause motherhood even if just for the length of time it would take to enjoy a worry-free nap. I opened my eyes this morning and motherhood was full speed ahead. I remembered the words of one of my friends who is an amazing warrior momma: "As a mom, always do what your body tells you to do. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to sleep, sleep. If your body tells you do a downward dog, lay your mat out put your baby on it if need be and do a downward dog. And if you want to dance, dance. Do whatever feels good." What I most wanted to do as soon as I woke up was child's pose. So, as my husband and little Wonder had their morning routine going, I set up my body in a restorative child's pose. Immediately I felt the benefits of the surrender into this pose. And I flet like I wanted to cry. In my mind, I could hear the words "maybe you needed some more mothering before you became a mother and this is why you are so overwhelmed" and this made me want to cry. Whether this is true or not, I am a mother now and it is time to give and give and give.
Also of note this morning when I opened my inbox, was an email from a dear friend of the family's informing us his mom had passed. So with all this heaviness in the air, I gazed out the window to "Blue in Green" by Miles Davis and let the trumpet take me away for a while. It's so beautiful to connect to an artist and to his art beyond space and time.
After having my little one, I am having a hard time defining reality. I find it hard to grasp on to anything. I feel as if someone put a new pair of eyes in my sockets and these new eyes find it hard to discern real from unreal; fact from fiction. I am unsure of what the whole "meaning of life" is. I often think that it couldn't possibly be this: me sitting to nurse constantly while succumbing to banal TV programming for entertainment. I feel like I need to be doing something more. Helping out with the oil spill in the Gulf, providing aid in Haiti, helping feed and clothe needy people in some remote part of the world. Then just as quickly as I have that thought, I realize if I am not well and at peace within, nothing and no one else in the world could be either. So it's okay to sit here and find my peace. That's one of those grand things about being a mother: you can't lie to yourself anymore. About anything.
I had to take a quick break just now to change my little one and myself from poopy clothes. Her 7th generations didn't hold up yet again. These little accidents make me laugh as I find so much joy in these moments. It's easy to be a mom then. You change a diaper, wipe them down and voila- they're smiling again. Eezy peezy lemonsqueezy. I feel like super mom. As opposed to the other times when I feel lost, hopeless, in pain, and helpless. But I keep on keepin' on because, well... there's nothing else to do.
My husband just looked over at us nursing and asked me "are you in love with her?"
"I don't know," I replied.
"It sure looks like you are."