When the Mud Becomes a Miracle
Oh, birth! Birth and transitions and the start of new things and the moving away and the moving towards. . . all twisted up all together at once. There’s nothing messier or muddier or more miraculous than these periods of change in my life.
Wow, sometimes I really blow at transitions.
The birth of new things in my life also re-births old stories in me. Stories of “Not good enough. Not ready yet. Work harder. Be more. Do more. Be better. . .…”
And, yet, no matter how long it takes, it appears I’ve come out alive every time.
And today, I find myself here: So ready to share something (this beautiful online sacred space) that I’ve held in my heart for so long.
For so long I’d stayed in limbo.
Afraid to let go. Afraid to move forward.
Afraid to leap.
Afraid to say yes to this. To Me.
I held this dream clenched tight and tied up in fear.
And, today, I hold it so gently and so joyfully with palms so open of just pure, unattached love…
I was rocking my toddler to sleep tonight and I felt overwhelmed with the joy and comfort of holding her in my arms. This hasn’t always been my experience. For the last 21 months, she has been entirely dependent on me only for every nap and every bedtime since she was born. While I know it is a blessing and such a beautiful experience to get to have this precious time with her, it has also been exhausting and demanding for me. It has meant I’ve missed out on other commitments that I desperately wanted to keep. It has meant sorely missed opportunities to connect with friends and families. And it has meant missing time for Me that used to be staple in my life.
So, to have these moments now, where I am able to let it all go and enjoy holding my baby in my arms and just breathe in the moment and hold it (and her) for a bit longer…well…it nearly brought me to tears tonight.
I spent the day today (on this first New Moon in November) thinking about sending my first story out to you all. Ive reached this moment with both joyful anticipation and also trust in the timing that’s not always mine to manipulate. I have carried a few thoughts in mind about what I wanted to share. And then all that fell away tonight rocking my toddler to bed. In that moment holding her, I felt a wave come through me of all the difficulties we’ve gone through together over the past 21 months. . .…
All of the times I cried in my closet and in the bathroom because she wouldn’t sleep. All of the times I wished I had more help and more time for Me because she had grown to only want “mama”. All of the times I was afraid I’d never find Me again because I lived my days consumed with worry and the constant tasks of feeding her the right way, raising her the “right way”, and being there for her for every little thing.
All of the times I thought to myself that “because I’m a Mom now, I couldn’t.”
I couldn’t write. I couldn’t connect with friends. I couldn’t create. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t be and give all that I wanted.
And I realized, only just a few moments ago, in a quiet pause in the darkness of rocking my little one:
It’s because I’m a Mom now that I can.
The only reason I am where I am today is because of her. . .…because of my first baby. . .…because of everything we have experienced together.
My feet can hold me up because she’s made my legs strong with grit. My heart is open and my eyes are light and lifted because she’s shown me that there’s no longer room here for the judgment of others or the holding back of joy.
It has been so very difficult stepping into this new identity of becoming a Mom. And so very rewarding. It has brought me to my knees in pain and sadness and confusion and loneliness. And it has brought me to my knees in the deepest gratitude and joy and overwhelming sense of connection that I have ever felt in my body before in my life.
I have wanted to write and share again for years and years and years…
And I have procrastinated. . . …
I have made excuses. . .
I have held back. . .
But most of all, I have let my fears and self-doubts stand in my way. I have heard two voices over and over and over in my head. One has said, “Just do this! It’s what you want. It will be fun. Who cares what happens?! It will be good for you.” And the other has said, “You are silly. You are not good enough for this. No one cares. You don’t have the time or resources or experience. You’re not ready yet.” And for too long, I’ve listened to that second voice.
It dawned on me tonight: I think it took becoming a mama for me to finally get to the place where I could listen to the first voice - the voice of my soul and heart and joy and spirit. I needed to fall to my knees to really feel those deep pains and those visceral joys. I needed to go through the depths and darkness of losing myself as a Mom to come to real terms with what matters most to me. And to come out with the conviction to carry through.
Motherhood provides me a mud so thick and sticky I am forced to prove to myself that I am capable of moving my way through and out. And it gives me the miracles that allow me to lift my arms up and throw my head back and say “This. This is what it’s all for.”
And, to put it simply, it took my toddler pretty much looking me in the eye with my entire being wrapped around her tiny, cute, chunky, demanding finger and saying (without words) “Mama! If you don’t say ‘yes’ to You now, I will take over your life FOREVER!!” (Believe me, she was saying that).
And, I’d so willingly give my life up for her in a second.
But I’ve experienced enough in life to realize, now, that I’d be doing her a disservice if I did that. That I can be MORE for her by being true to Me first.
So, it dawned on me tonight, during the dawning of this New Moon, that all the times I thought in these last 21 months that motherhood was the reason I couldn’t, it’s actually the reason I finally can.
And, really, this online sacred space that I’ve been sneaking away from my baby to birth is a gift. And me finding my way and new identity as Me-again with a mama-in-Me is also a gift.
It’s a gift from her to me.
And from me to her.
It’s so hard, in the moment, to be grateful for the mud. . .…to see the purpose of it in our lives. Honestly, it might be (nearly?) impossible, at times. But one day, it reveals itself. In my experience, it always does.
I ask myself, on this New Moon:
What’s the mud showing up in my life at the moment? What could it be trying to show me? Is there something I could be missing by letting myself get too sucked in? Can I loosen it up a bit? Who could I try chatting with that might help me see things in a new way?
I don’t always try to move out of the mud right away…but, when I can get myself there, I’ve found that starting with a bit of curiosity and open-mindedness and connecting with someone who listens well helps create some shifts.
Today I found a few quiet minutes for Me in a space that makes Me breath easy. I lit a candle, put on my favorite background music, grabbed my favorite pen and journal and wrote down any New Moon mud and/or miracle-making-material that came up in the moment. Then I sat, read it over and let it sink in. I felt some things subside and settle in me. Then, I closed my book and moved through the rest of my day with a bit more purposeful direction, comfort and ease.
If you feel drawn to meeting me here, I invite you to experiment with this practice. And, if you want to take a (virtual) walk with me and share your m&m I would so willingly listen to (or read) your insights side-by-side together if you choose to share.
m. with love
jaime