Hola my darlinghearts,
I’ve been reading piles of books furiously this week, trying to search for words and wisdom and understanding about this thing I’m going through… this thing of mamahood and grieving my maiden life and trying to find my peace and joy and balance in this new skin I inhabit. Because I find it and lose it and find it and lose it and find it again. I wonder why other mamas seem to find it easy.
It’s not that I think I’m a crap mum by any means.
I know without a doubt that I really am a good mama. I know I am giving Ostara everything I have. I absolutely and whole-heartedly believe in my parenting style and what I am giving her.
It’s just… I find mamahood exhausting. And I crave my stillness. I crave creating. I crave that life I used to have. I created it to be my perfect blend of softness, creativity, quiet and adventures. And I still haven’t found my way back to a new kind of life that fits me like that did.
I get jealous when I read or hear that other goddesses are going to spend an afternoon reading in the sun, or spend the next couple of days finishing a creative project.
And then I judge the holy-dinger out of myself that mamahood isn’t fulfilling enough for me – that I still want these things of creativity, stillness and my inner world – when I have this beautiful daughter.
Writing this, I know the answer already. I know everything will be okay. I know I need to be gentle on myself. I know this is a normal part of transition, transformation and initiation into mamahood.
All I need do is sit, breathe and let the waves wash through my life.
I know I need to be outside, rest and be gentle on myself.
I know I need to unconditionally love, accept and adore who I am – just as I am.
I’ve always been bloody good at loving myself. It’s just this new mama self that I’m getting to know. It’s this new life of mine that I’m still finding the fit of.
But I digress.
I wanted to share with you some words I did find that helped.
It’s from the book “Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom” by Christiane Northrup. When I first read the first half of that book years ago, it was life changing. And I returned to it, craving its wisdom on motherhood.
And then I found this… these words that changed my life:
The author Lynn Andrews once wrote that there are two kinds of mothers: Earth Mothers and Creative Rainbow Mothers. Earth Mothers nurture their children and feed them – and they thrive on this. Our society rewards this kind of woman as the “good mother.”
Creative Rainbow Mothers, on the other hand, inspire their children without necessarily having meals on the table on time. I know that, beyond a doubt, I’m a Creative Rainbow Mother. I once read the cookery book “Laurel’s Kitchen” and fantasised about how wonderful it would be to bake bread daily and relish being what Laurel calls “The Keeper of the Keys” – and to create that ever-important nurturing home space. But this is not who I am – and to try to be something I’m not would ultimately do my children and I a great disservice. I love to be alone. I love to read. I love quiet and music and writing. My soul is fed by long hours of unbroken creative time. Young children require a much different type of energy – a type of energy I don’t have in abundance.
I can’t tell you the immense relief and lightbulbs I felt glowing inside me reading this.
I breathed them in, over and over again. Reading over and over again, eating them up, scarcely believing my eyes.
It was a long exhale of the soul.
I outlined it, dog-eared the page, read it outloud to Chris.
At last… here was a woman – a woman I respect – who understood. Who was teaching me a new way of motherhood. Who was giving me keys to really getting who I am – as a soul and as a mother.
I’m okay that mamahood kicks my ass. And when I am not okay, I will get okay again.
I’m okay that sometimes it seems like other mamas have adjusted easier than me.
I have my own superpowers.
And my very best superpower?
Is to be me.
Woman, soul, creator, artist, goddess, lover, mama.
A dear friend said to me last week:
You do know right? You know that Starry chose you to be her mama – not anyone else. She wanted you to be you, Leonie.
Oh. I see. At least, I am beginning to.
This life thing. It’s one big, beautiful journey of loving every part of the God inside us… divine, flawed, forgetful, wise, knowing, broken, alive, fragrant and blessed.
I love you,