Precious,
Two things to gift you today:
Firstly, a printable Mama Goddess poster.
And then a letter for your new mama heart.
xo
L
Dear B,
I saw you yesterday.
Breasts aching with milk, body aching.
You are a new mama.
Just moments ago,
you were initiated into the strangest, most intense, wildest, hardest fucking path there is:
Motherhood.
And
I just want you to know
dear mama,
you are not alone.
You are not alone as your body aches,
your vagina mends,
your breasts stab with pain.
You are not alone as your days
become nights
stretching long and unending
and nowhere between the two
is one damn eight hour block
of sleep.
You are not alone as you stare
out the window and wonder
just where the fuck your life went
what the fuck this motherhood gig is all about
what the fuck you are supposed to be doing now
who you are now
and what it all means.
You are not alone as you marvel at
how precious and free and unencumbered
and utterly relaxing your life was
pre-children.
How you used to be satiated with
sleep and food and time
and now you are stricken with poverty
of all three
and you wonder why the fuck anybody ever willing chooses this.
You are not alone as you cry
as you sob
as the grey clouds move in and set up home.
You are not alone
as your heart shrieks
when your baby cries.
You are not alone
when you look at the space
between you and your love
and wonder where it got crushed and smothered and bent
by the great force that is
keeping a tiny human being
alive.
You are not alone
when you are angry
tired
sad
devastated.
You are not alone
when you are guilty
when you are the worst mother alive
when you forget where your kid is
when you make mistakes.
You are not alone when you question everything.
When you fret.
When you hear your child screaming everytime you take a shower
only to realise there is nothing but silence when you turn it off.
(Or maybe they really are screaming.
Either way
you are not alone.)
You are not alone – literally – when you
attempt to go to the toilet
and discover that
this one private act has been taken from you too.
Your child needs you.
Relentlessly.
So wholly and solely
you fear you have been swallowed whole
and that there is nothing left for you.
You are not alone.
You are not alone when your sanity breaks,
your temper frays,
and you dream of running
– running – straight through the door
down the street
away to a quieter place
a place you can hear yourself think
a place you can meet your own needs
a place you can be just you
– not mama, not wife
just you.
You are not alone when you want to escape
the screaming,
nagging,
relentless
needful mess of it all.
You are not alone
you are not alone
you are not alone.
You are not
wrong
or
bad
or
guilty
or selfish
for wanting
a piece of you for you
a piece of your old life back
anything
but this.
You are not alone
when you think you are.
You are not alone
when you question yourself.
You are not alone
when you are convinced
you are the most unnatural mother in the world.
You are not alone
when you believe
this whole motherhood thing
is too fucked up,
too needing of an adult
then you’ll ever be able to provide.
You,
dearest mama,
are not alone.
You are not alone when it is hard.
I want you to know…
this will pass.
It will get easier.
I promise.
Right now, at the beginning of motherhood,
it’s the hardest initiation of all.
No other time can compare.
I want you to know
that breath by breath
moment by moment
it will get a little softer
a little kinder
and you will scoop back a second more of your own time.
I want you to know
that you deserve all the
support
and healing
and time
you want and need.
That it is a good thing
to find other carers for your wee one
and let them love them
while you love you.
I want you to know
you are
strong
brave
ferocious
and magical.
I want you to know your body just
created the living miracle
of splitting into two
and sustaining a whole new lifeform.
And that it doesn’t come
without cost or pain or energy
and we can talk about this.
We don’t need to gloss over it.
We don’t need to make it shine.
We can be real here,
with each other,
as mamas.
We can tell the truth about our lives
the holy and the glorious and the love
and the pain and the deep shitty depraved horror and the depression and the angst and the overriding guilt and the crippling anxiety
and that all of them are welcome here.
I want you to know
that I struggled profoundly
that I thought my life was over
that the Leonie as I knew her was gone
and was never, ever coming back
so much so
I burned all my photo albums,
I gave away all my paintings
let go of all my beloved book collection.
I want you to know
I thought the pain would never end.
I want you to know
I was wrong.
And it did.
My child got older. She got easier. She (eventually) started sleeping.
And most of all,
I discovered me. Who I was as a mother. What I needed to thrive. What were the surefire things that would fuck me up.
I, Leonie Dawson, hereby require the following: medication, acupuncture, therapy and childcare in order to not crumple up into the ground.
And I am not ashamed to say that.
I am not ashamed to say that though I adore my children, every moment with children is NOT pure joy and bliss.
That does NOT make me a bad mother.
It makes me a mother. One who knows herself and her own cells.
I’m not saying that you need all that, dearest.
I’m just saying:
whatever it is you need,
you are utterly
and deeply
allowed
to have it.
And I support you
and encourage you
to find whatever ways
you can
to have them.
By hook or by crook, by supreme creativity or string-pulling or needs-declaring.
Whatever it is… your needs are worth it.
To have needs is not a weakness.
It is a sacred and human right.
Just because you are a mother
does not make you
less
of a human.
Dearest mama,
wherever you are
wherever you are
in this great tumble and fumble
of humanity and stretching and reaching and hoping and grasping
I want you to know
you are loved
by so very many
who want to see you shine.
You are loved
you are worthy
you are whole
even and especially when you feel broken.
Thank you for choosing to be a mama.
Thank you for choosing the enormous task of bringing through another soul and body into the world.
The angels want you to know that
it is never
ever
about
sacrificing yourself.
It is about finding ways for you to thrive
to tend to your precious self
even amidst the greatest storm of your life.
You are good, mama.
You are perfect and you are beauty and you are divine.
And you are surrounded by a whole globe of sisters.
Sisters who hear you.
Sisters who know.
Sisters who love you.
You are not alone.
You are good.
All my love,