Crunchy Without the Nuts

Society taught me to be silent Be super woman We earned this Why do I feel like I need a tribe? But the "shoulds" float around in my mind I should do more I shouldn't complain I should be stronger I shouldn't rest I feel weak Physically But mostly mentally. About to crack and break On the brink of giving up Society told me that I should take it all on So I pile on the guilt The emotional burden The physical trauma The deep disconnection between my past and present self. Six weeks is all it takes To heal the gaping bloody wound inside But why aren't we looking at Measuring! the invisible Intangible Inconceivable And so abrupt transition into that which we call motherhood?

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.

Baby monitor obsessed. What was that sound? Is she sleeping safely, did I do enough ? Anxiety. Guilt. All the while She Dreams Of Me

I was a little too impatient. A little too selfish. A little too rough. A little too mindless. I forgot you were too little to understand.

I rocked you to sleep. Sometimes I wish the minutes away, So I can go downstairs and wash the day away with a drink. Sometimes I get angry. And frustrated. And immediately I feel regret. And sadness. Tonight I took a deep breath. I breathed deeply into the tightness in my chest. My jaw relaxed. You fell asleep. Suckling an invisible nipple. Maybe dreaming of my breast. Dreaming of me. Your mom. Your world. You fell asleep. With a smile on your face. I am ashamed by my mindlessness. I promise you, my sweet love, I will try harder.

When you gaze and study my face When you smile and wait for my response When you drowsily nuzzle into me When you are soothed by my touch I know why I am alive.