As a mother, managing this hunger is a daily dance as we can’t always put ourselves first. In fact, we often need to put children first and in doing so get further away from our own feeding and need for care.
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You can't go back to the way you were, for you are forever changed, and while you know you aren’t who you used to be, the newest version of you is still emerging. Now is the time to nourish the well of creativity, not to hastefully tap it again.
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There are times as a mother when I literally forget who I am. Times when I get so sucked into the laundry list of life that I struggle to locate ME. When that happens I plop myself down and write. I ask and answer big questions and in the writing, I’m always brought back home to myself.
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May she look at them and say, "My mother taught me to accept my body as she is. To trust her changing, flowing nature. I choose body reverence over body revulsion and I will never abandon myself or my body for whatever false love "perfection" brings. My body is my own and not open to commentary."
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Some little shitty voice tells me that though nursing, clothing, washing, cooking for, diapering, and feeding my babe is important, it's not AS important as my work outside of the home. It'll never be as important as the work that brings in cold hard cash.
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I used to think children ruined your life. I used to think I'd have no time for work or fun or rest. I used to think I'd be so worn down by months of middle of the night feedings that I'd be unable to function. I used to think having children would just be too hard.
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There was a time when you thought you were wise. A time when you thought you had answers. A time when you didn't fixate on nap times and the question "what's for dinner?" And isn't it always when we gain some semblance of perceived understanding that it's time to become a student again?
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You are not changed by motherhood, you are utterly transformed. Stripped of who you were (What the hell did you do with all that free time you used to have?), thrown into the fire, melted down to your core and built up again into someone you don't recognize.
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All newness is tough. New kid in school, new relationship, new job. And what we’re being asked to remember is that firsts are also an invitation to touch upon our resilience and the possibility of adventure.
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Is it really enough of a contribution that I spend our days feeding, burping, changing, and soothing? Certainly I could be doing more? Certainly I could find some way to prove my worth to society while stuck in this nursing chair?
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Round the clock feeding. Sleep deprivation. Aching back. Cracked nipples. Clothes that are now throw-up catchers. And the shit. Literal shit that somehow finds its way out of diapers and onto legs, hands, feet, and ears.
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Don't wish away what is such a sweet, tender, hard, exhilarating and ultimately short time. The two of you have the rest of your lives to be older. In fact, older is guaranteed.
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When we praise a woman for being “small" we both offer our twisted belief that smaller is better and then shower ourselves with self judgment for not being small, or at least, not “small enough”. This example also works if we were to praise a woman for her being “tall” or “large”, believing that larger is better and then judging ourselves and others for not being “large enough”.
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