Crunchy Without the Nuts

I think about the adventures we will have. And how strong you are. And how wild. I think about your wonder and Wonder what your favorite tree will be. When I ask you why the sky is blue, I wonder what you will say. Will you want to fly with the birds, Or run with the wolves, Or swim in the deep blue ocean with whales?

Your cheeks are sunshine Your eyes are treasure chests You radiate innocence and joy You gleam with purity You are pristine and unscathed You are perfect You are light You are the light of my life

Can we talk about the isolation? You hear about it before babies, mamas feeling isolated. Surrounded by people, but feeling so alone. We do it to ourselves. No one tells you that part. Pushing away. Making excuses. Pulling away, because no one understands. Situations are too inconvenient. I'm an inconvenience. I'd rather suffer alone than have to explain myself. I'd rather be friendless than offered well meaning solutions to problems that no one understands. Can we talk about the identity crisis? Loving someone more than you could ever express. How do you explain the pure bliss and unconditional love of being a mother, all while grieving for the life that has been lost at the same time? And the growing pains of motherhood. The new you that bursts out of the old you overnight. No matter how prepared, it always feels premature. It always feels like a blouse that doesn't quite fit right. Will I grow into it? Or am I flawed? Can we talk about the unco

Dim lights. Bed time routine is passed. I've crept into the bedroom. You are asleep. Warm. Safe. The sounds in the room are my lullaby. Your soft breath. White noise drowns out my thoughts of inadequacy.

I prepared. I thought I knew. I didn't. I know nothing. But deep inside is instinct. It guides me. Knowledge is nothing. Feeling is supreme. Deep primal intuition. Female. Woman. Mother.

Flanged lips suckle in a perfect motion. An instinctual rhythm to coax the flow. The flow of comfort. Of nourishment. Of life. Rooted deep in our biology, it must be unearthed. Mother and child both student and teacher. Patience. Guidance. Surrender. Suffering. I feel the warm discomfort of the let down. I am proud of this journey.