you give me that look that's like laughing
with liquid in your mouth
like you're choosing between choking
and spitting it all out
like you're trying to fight gravity
on a planet that insists
that love is like falling
and falling is like this
My love for my husband continues to expand exponentially when I see them together playing, laughing, taking time to explain something new. Sometimes in the last seven months things are harder in ways they were not before the young one came to join us. However, we are learning new ways of communicating old complaints and finding that some of them no longer serve us; we need to shed them as our arms can only carry so much. I look at him and sigh, deeply, with such pride knowing that he will be the primary model for Naz of how to be a man. A man's man, indeed, expressing his joy through hugs, his frustration through words, and his anger through mindful pauses, quiet deliberation, and calm responses.
Sadly, I wish I could say that my relationship with myself had reached new empathetic highs, but I feel perhaps the opposite is true. I find myself still caught up in internal dialogues harboring around disappointment, judgment, and inadequacy when I should be doing something good for myself in those few fleeting moments, like sleeping. My body has changed and while I feel strong in ways I haven't felt before, lets call it like it is: I am flabby in a way I never have been before. My legs and arms now carry, lift, shift the weight of the boy I bare almost all of the time, but this waist of mine, well, it is still showing the results of the chocolate and ice cream of pregnancy excused. This makes for an uncomfortable Sera most of the time, as I plan to run, walk, yoga, crunch my way to the body I want, yet almost never do. I find that when those few moments offer themselves, I want to sit, sleep, or (heaven forbid) bathe!
Each day, now that I can see the difference between these states of mind and with more and more sleep blessing me, I have the energy and focus to hope that I will do more for myself reclaiming a bit of my life and independence. But as laundry, cooking, diapers, nursing sessions, time with Adam, and time with Naz move into my day, I find it is again night, I am tired, and just want to sleep before it all begins again.
At the times when sleep and solitude beckon like the first sunny day of spring after a long winter I wish the child, the husband, the job, and the rest would just go away. Just for a short time so I can catch up, find my breath, and tune into this glorious boy growing before my very eyes.
In my more rested moments, I do breathe all of this in. Slowly. This simplicity of what is directly in front of me, needing my full attention, now. Naz. Adam. Life simply as it is today. So may new things happening for all of us and I don't want to miss any of it.
I tell Naz that love can be anything we want it to be, can look a myriad of different ways. What matters about it is that is is pure, for love's own sake, and is about giving, not receiving.
And with that, I fall.
Fall, deeply.
Loving, all the way down.
with liquid in your mouth
like you're choosing between choking
and spitting it all out
like you're trying to fight gravity
on a planet that insists
that love is like falling
and falling is like this
Now that I am catching up on my sleep I am able more and more to moveMothering continues to push me to new limits. The most telling one I didn't see coming was my capacity to love. And not just my son, but I feel my heart expanding to understand and embrace others, as well. I find that when I look at women who are obviously mothers now I smile differently at them, feeling a part of a secret club. And pregnant women, too. I look at them and try to convey with my eyes, "Enjoy it, friend, soon you will be one of us".
out of survival mode and into a space enabling me to enjoy this phase of
my life. I experience such deep satisfaction from watching my young boy
learn to do things on his own: finding his voice in his devilish squeal,
becoming more and more self sufficient by reaching for the things he
wants, and discovering the literal ups and downs of mobility as he tries
time and time again to crawl. I mean its not like he is going away to travel
the world on his own tomorrow or anything, but he is growing into his own
person and its a wonder to see.
My love for my husband continues to expand exponentially when I see them together playing, laughing, taking time to explain something new. Sometimes in the last seven months things are harder in ways they were not before the young one came to join us. However, we are learning new ways of communicating old complaints and finding that some of them no longer serve us; we need to shed them as our arms can only carry so much. I look at him and sigh, deeply, with such pride knowing that he will be the primary model for Naz of how to be a man. A man's man, indeed, expressing his joy through hugs, his frustration through words, and his anger through mindful pauses, quiet deliberation, and calm responses.
Sadly, I wish I could say that my relationship with myself had reached new empathetic highs, but I feel perhaps the opposite is true. I find myself still caught up in internal dialogues harboring around disappointment, judgment, and inadequacy when I should be doing something good for myself in those few fleeting moments, like sleeping. My body has changed and while I feel strong in ways I haven't felt before, lets call it like it is: I am flabby in a way I never have been before. My legs and arms now carry, lift, shift the weight of the boy I bare almost all of the time, but this waist of mine, well, it is still showing the results of the chocolate and ice cream of pregnancy excused. This makes for an uncomfortable Sera most of the time, as I plan to run, walk, yoga, crunch my way to the body I want, yet almost never do. I find that when those few moments offer themselves, I want to sit, sleep, or (heaven forbid) bathe!
Each day, now that I can see the difference between these states of mind and with more and more sleep blessing me, I have the energy and focus to hope that I will do more for myself reclaiming a bit of my life and independence. But as laundry, cooking, diapers, nursing sessions, time with Adam, and time with Naz move into my day, I find it is again night, I am tired, and just want to sleep before it all begins again.
At the times when sleep and solitude beckon like the first sunny day of spring after a long winter I wish the child, the husband, the job, and the rest would just go away. Just for a short time so I can catch up, find my breath, and tune into this glorious boy growing before my very eyes.
In my more rested moments, I do breathe all of this in. Slowly. This simplicity of what is directly in front of me, needing my full attention, now. Naz. Adam. Life simply as it is today. So may new things happening for all of us and I don't want to miss any of it.
I tell Naz that love can be anything we want it to be, can look a myriad of different ways. What matters about it is that is is pure, for love's own sake, and is about giving, not receiving.
And with that, I fall.
Fall, deeply.
Loving, all the way down.
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