These women didn't trip and fall into a dark well of motherhood. They chose to be involved mothers, set an intention for who they wanted to be as a mother and as a woman and allowed their choices, shifts or pauses to open up new ways to think and feel.
How could a mother part with the hospital newborn cap—the one that, if you squeeze your eyes shut and sniff really deeply, still smells a little like fresh baby?
I was up late (again) when I should have been sleeping. I was catching up on work when I should have been taking time for myself. I was looking at Instagram when I should have been folding laundry. I was holding my baby while she napped when I should have been cleaning up.
I remember her, so tiny and beautiful, sweet and new. And I remember me, innocent and hopeful, exhausted and adrift. Something changed in me the day she was born, but I didn't know that yet.
As his former spouse, I know that deep down in there somewhere is a man who wants to do well in the world. Someone who wants to be reconnected to his son, who yearns to prove to the world that he's capable. But as a mom, I put up giant barriers and protectors.
Even though you don't quite know the right thing to say, I'm going to believe that you want to say the right thing. You really want to tell me that I'm an excellent mother and that I'm doing a good job but you don't know how to say that exactly.
I never could have imagined the energy that I felt with you inside me. I anticipated weakness, illness and slower days. Those came but were far and few between. Instead, what was most present during this pregnancy was my creativity.
The amount of stuff was staggering. There were five giant bags of t-shirts, printed onesies, and pants with faces on the seat. There were boxes of tiny shoes and a box of wooden toys. Half of it still had the tags on.
