It was my son’s 3rd birthday today.
We both were born that day in a different way – a little baby-boy and me-new-mother. In fact my birth into the mother took much longer than the actual birth. It has pretty much lasted until now.
When eating the cake my housemate asked: „How was this time actually for you?“
„Well I was a mess,“ I answered. „Mixture of exhaustion, excitment and fear. After birthing the whole night in the craziest pain I have ever experienced another sleepless night came when the baby cried the whole night through. I thought: how on the Earth could I ever survive this? How could I keep this creature alive?“
My mother friend nodded: „It is like starting a new job without any education right after big surgery.“
No I wasn’t complete perfect mother right after birth eventhough I started to birth the mother-self while birthing my child.
But with every little step on the mothering journey she becomes more and more alive in me.
She continues to grow in me with my son growing.
Rather than being a mother it is a process of becoming mother that requires lots of patience and compassion – not only with the child but myself.
I wish I could hold the little baby-boy with the experience, knowledge and love I have gained through the three years of the mothering journey.
I wish to be awaked with him again the first night-out-of-the-womb and give him certainity that he is most welcome in this world and I am gonna give him all the possible nourishment and love.
I wish I could hold myself-new-mother at times when I was breaking down in tears and hopelessness not knowing how to manage. At times when it felt like my life has finished with the arrival of this super-demanding creature that can’t be a second without me.
I wish to hold her and tell her that she will make it to the point when it will be much more joy than sorrow.
And that all the challenges are portals into the essence of humanity, into a great compassion and respect towards all the other life stories.