There is silence all around me. Everyone else is in bed. This seems to be the only time I can really write. Between relearning how to nurse, potty training, keeping the house clean, trying to nap whenever possible, and cleaning up after a cross-country trip, I find that these rare moments of quiet in my house, and in my life, are the only moments when I can sit to put thoughts down before they disappear, like my full coffee cup from this morning. Where on earth did I set that down?
I have goals and things I want to accomplish, for myself certainly, but also for Jonah and Caroline. I'd like to learn to sew, finish Sweet Caroline's baby blanket, write one new story every week, teach Jonah his letters, finish reading "The Heroine's Journey" ....
But instead it seems that I have only enough time to scribble down a few ideas between the endless dishes, laundry, nursing, kissing the owies and the fifty million other things that never quite come off my to-do list.
Who nurtures the nurturer? Who comforts the comforter? Who cleans up after the cleaner? Who mothers the mother?
It doesn't seem that there is an answer to these questions. I have gathered that somehow these things are supposed to come ethereally from the inherent goodness of my own actions as a mother. In some way I am supposed to feel loved and appreciated and feminine as I stand over a sink of dirty dishes. And yet I do not. Somehow, I don't think I'm just doing it wrong.
Do not misunderstand- I don't regret having my babies. I am not resentful that this life has needs that I must meet. I simply do not understand why meeting those needs should make me feel whole as a woman, or even like a woman at all. Instead I feel more like communal property, or simply the one who gives. My biggest fear is not that I won't be appreciated or loved- every time Sweet Caroline smiles and Jonah touches my moles, and Josh wraps his arms around me, I feel loved. My biggest fear is that one day they will move on and I will not know myself. Without someone to hover over and care for I will be left feeling, all the time, as I do anytime I am surrounded by people I do not know. Uncomfortable and shy.
In these quiet little moments I try to find myself under the laundry and dishes and piles of toys and goodness-knows-what-else that demand so much of my attention. So much of my life has changed because I have changed so much of myself over the last few years. I want to get to know this new woman that I have become.
I guess that's what this part of the journey is about. I take this time to fill my pack with the people I love and trudge up hill to a place where they will be able to walk on their own, and in the mean time I keep in touch with myself, so when they take their own paths, I am able to choose one for myself