Happy Mother’s Day.
Today is beautiful – sunny, and warm – a day where the sky seems to stretch forever, and the trees all vibrate with a green one shade away from surreal.
The world always seems to shine a little brighter on your day.
Momma, it’s Mother’s Day and I am just past 7 months pregnant. I sometimes get really scared that I won’t know how to be a momma because you aren’t here anymore.
I can’t phone you when I’m worried about things (silly or serious) or ask you about pregnancy symptoms.
(At week 28 did it feel like someone did a wind-up soccer kick straight to your right groin?)
We can’t share stories, laughs and tears as I muddle my way through this wonderful and bizarre journey.
And you can’t come and visit me after this wee babe is born. To hold and to sing to them.
To continue to share stories, laughs and tears.
Sometimes I get so jealous of other women who are newly pregnant or mums themselves – both friends and strangers – who get this chance.
In these moments it feels like I have lightning in my belly and sand in my eyes and I want to scream, “You don’t know how lucky you are!”
What’s funny is that, in order to get myself out of this space, I have to do my yoga breathing (the yoga breathing you taught me to do, over and over and over again).
Momma, you are with me when I am upset about not having you.
That’s a pretty good trick you have.
Momma, it’s also that I am blessed to know so many amazing mums who are keeping close and showing me many beautiful examples of motherhood.
They also help clear the sand from my eyes.
Four of these mothers are also my sisters:
Jessi, who has the strength of a tiger, the endurance of an ostrich and the iron will of a wolf, so that no matter what is happening in the world – micro or macro – she leads and loves like a warrior. (I’ll let you guess which of these animals is also representative of her beauty.)
Kate, whose patience and calm floor me each and every day, whose quiet and understated, but never underrepresented, compassion and kindness has brought me back from the brink too many times to count, and who sees the gentle beauty and humour in everything.
Mel, whose big heart burns with such a tangible love, you swear you can see it colour the corners of a room – a magic only matched by her creativity and unique characteristics that leave her kids (and everyone else) is stitches.
Vanessa, who radiates a love and an authenticity so nurturing and nourishing, she makes it impossible to feel alone or like you’ve done something wrong. (She also brings this light to the world on a chronic lack of sleep, which makes her words, laughter and heart ever the more special.)
So there you go momma.
It’s Mother’s Day.
Thanks for helping me see the beauty of your day.
And the beauty of all mothers just a little brighter too.