Mother’s Day was perfect. Spent the weekend with those I love and who love me. Didn’t have to cook and was able to relax.
But 1 hour of it really sucked and it got me thinking how quickly the good can disappear from your mind and the negative can take hold faster than my little girl can throw up after a feed (never get the cloth in time). And also started pondering how lonely mothering can often be.
That one lonely hour was spent pacing my in-laws kitchen, gut-screaming babe in arms, watching the rest of my family walk, explore and adventure outside after our mother’s day dinner. That hour has been common over the past few weeks. I like to think she is wearing herself out so she can sleep peacefully til the morning, sunlit hours…sometimes I am right, sometimes not so much.
But as I did laps around the family table I couldn’t help but feel lonely. Motherhood can often be lonely. You are the one to sit quietly as you feed your easily distracted child. You are the one to wake up in the dark hours and sit silently in the dimness waiting kind-of-patiently for your young one to drop back off. You are the one who’s heart aches if you hear your baby crying in the arms of another, so even though it may not make a difference to her tears, you scoop her up and take her somewhere secluded to calm your own heart as well as hers. You are the one to spend the majority of your hours investing in your children through keeping your home, cooking meals, wiping tears and tending to their needs as selflessly as humans are capable. We are thrust into a world we have not been a part of since we ourselves were babies yet we spend most of it as the only adult present.
And you know what is pathetic? When I personally am given the option to have someone watch my oldest so I can get out into the land of the living or hold my baby so I can wash the spit up and baby wearing sweat off my body, I miss them. I breathe deeply the independence and make the most of having two hands and a partly clear mind…but I still miss them. I miss my boy terribly when I see him running around laughing and I am bouncing on achy legs trying to calm my youngest in a room where I can only watch him from afar. This transition is difficult isn’t it?! Then at the end of the night when my oldest is sleeping I look deeply into my newborn’s eyes and realize I have hardly connected with her. I may have had her in my arms or on my boob most of the day but that intimate sitting, looking, talking and discovering is not as normal as it was with only one baby in the house. Then I feel I am missing this fleeting stage with my darling daughter.
So, this mother’s day (yes this was meant to be posted earlier) I am thinking of the mothers who feel secluded. Who feel like strangers in their own families sometimes as their role has once again changed and it is taking some time to adjust. The mothers who invest wholly in their children and feel full to the brim with love and accomplishment but who still sometimes ache. Ache because it takes time for transition to become normal. Ache because life is different. Ache because we are often physically alone. Ache because we always feel we could be doing better. Ache because we try so hard and yet feel guilty.
Ache because we love our families so very very much.
And that is the best ache, worth every other. We wouldn’t have it any other way. 🙂
Don’t let that negative hour take away from the joy of raising your family…even if that hour occurs often. You are taking it one hour at a time so cling to the beauty of motherhood and remember…you are seen, you are recognized and you are succeeding.
To you sometimes lonely but always loved mothers…Happy Mother’s Day