Nine years ago today I became a mother. To say no one could have prepared me for what was to come is an understatement of titanic proportion.
It’s a cliché, but true: Parenthood changes us and we can never go back. Once you become a mother or father, you see the world in a different light. We not only become the caretakers of the children with whom we are charged but seemingly of the entire human race.
Motherhood has made me stronger.
From the moment my daughter was born – after 31 hours of intense, unrelenting labour and a “sunny-side up” delivery during which an anesthetist was fervently prepping me for surgery – my midwife looked me in the eye and said “You tell anyone who ever doubted you that you are strong and can bear any pain.”
And it’s true. It was a grueling, drug-free, intense journey from start to finish. Since then I went from being afraid of pain to knowing it is just something to get through, physical or otherwise. And I’ve been able to accomplish many of life’s myriad challenges with a vastly different attitude: I know I can do hard things.
Motherhood has also weakened me. My Achilles heel is enormous. Some days I’m like a homeless hermit crab wandering through life vulnerable to a fault. My ability to separate one person’s hardship from my own is a blurred line. Every person is my child when I slow down long enough to feel the truth of it.
The person in the nursing home who simply longs for a hand to hold is my child.
The young man on the street wanting a warm meal and someone to look him in the eyes, he is my child.
The old woman whose hard life is etched on her face outside a downtown concert, she is my child, too.
They were once a pure, innocent little baby whose mother looked down at them moments after their own birth and felt a celestial surge of emotion, whether it was love or fear or something in between.
Parenthood is one of the most exquisite and unbalanced journeys one can take in a lifetime. For everything we give, the rewards can be small or even nonexistent. And sometimes they are huge. They never come at the “right” moment and are oftentimes unrecognizable if we aren’t listening or watching with our hearts.
Staying present and in the moment is the hardest thing of all and after nine years of practice, I still float in and out of consciousness when it comes to my children, the ones I actually gave birth to and live with. Even as I write this I struggle to find the balance between work and someone wanting my attention, between a deadline and my daughter. Because the former is simpler and far less demanding.
Kirsten Andrews offers Simplicity Parenting courses, workshops and private consultations. Visit Sea To Sky Simplicity Parenting on Facebook or www.SeaToSkySimplicityParenting.com.
