Motherhood Moment

A child lays on a red and white striped blanket on a bed. The child has dark, short hair, and is wearing a gray outfit.

By. Emily Jo

I watch as you drift off to sleep, your worried brow uncrumpling, licks of tears, leaving salty trails on your plump cheeks. Moments ago your 5 year old self questioned mortality, dark images whitewashing your tiny tired body. Staggered gasps, words catching in webs of sadness.

I feel your soft heartbeat under my hand, once tiny galloping beats, relief at the sound, tangible joy from long ago when you were only almond sized, floating effortlessly about in ‘baby land’ already committed to ‘picking’ me to be your mum. 

The intensity of love I feel for you is intoxicating, equally daunting, and grandly humbling. Distant are the days we lay and gazed at clouds, you happily gurgling and grasping at my fingers, tiny curious hands. Soon you will no longer fit in my lap, your gangly legs already draping this way and that- you can almost reach the toaster, and diving under water, riding a bike, and turning on the shower are newly accomplished feats.

Until now, I had not appreciated the potency of the simple remark “it goes so fast, treasure these days,” offered from a smugly winking grandparent, gesturing to the large drooling baby strapped to my chest and the toddler wedged in the pram- face and a tuft of blond curl embellished with sticky wads of nori and a smear of avocado paste (AKA sushi).

I remember looking at their smiling eyes with a mix of “if you get any closer, I’ll poke you in the eye,” disbelief, and a micro hint of optimism. BUT had they forgotten this time in life, or feel as if the clock arm has simply stopped moving? Had they forgotten the brain ache of sleepless nights, sore boobs, backs, sandy eyes, washed out brains- surely they could see the war paint shadows of fatigue on my once rested(?) skin.

Yet, for all the salty tears, missing toy cars, porridge used as face paint and yoghurt sleeves, drool putting a Great Dane to shame, endless slobber, muddy shoes, puddle exploration, and broken sleep- moments of motherhood mayhem are bookended by the moments of sheer mischievous joy on your small smiling faces. A comparison can not be drawn with the delight in your eyes as you master a new trick- the exact moment you have the revelation you have a hide and seek friend. Even before you can crawl, the shared belly laughter and moments of giddy gurgling connection between you both, a dialect all of your own wacky creation. The sparkle of immense pride across your little faces, eyes glistening bright. The innocence and beauty in finding grandmas lost glasses (are they actually lost?), sibling mischief with tubes of unsuspecting toothpaste and the daily lashings of little sticky fingers wrapped around necks, part strangle part bear hug, affirmed with sloppy kisses, snuggles and giggles.. hours roll into weeks, weeks into months.. an endless bubble of happy messy chaos.

With each rising of the sun, sandy eyes squinting at the minutes we’ve managed to rest in slumber, I am reminded how blessed I am.

Two little souls chose me as their portal to this earth. To them:

I am equally daunted and humbled to be guiding you through these early years and beyond. May I always have the courage to be the best mama I possibly can be, and may you have the strength to endure the changes that life will continue to greet you with. Already in your short time on the earthly realm, we have faced small mountains, rocky paths, immense changes, and time and time again you both have found your own little warrior spirits, love of Sushi and the Octonauts. 

Thank you for choosing me, thank you universe/God/source (who ever you are) for gifting me the opportunity to truly experience love, unconditional in all its glory- of a plentiful overflowing break the banks tidal amount- more than enough to fill 2 small human beings from toes to fingertips. Thank you for showing me there is indeed onion layers of purpose and meaning to this life. For showing me I am indeed of importance- when through my own silent heartbreak and struggles I almost, almost forgot.

To those who are finding this journey hard and a little lonely, heartbreaking, or just a smidge daunting- reach out. Reach and keep reaching. Mamas, let’s be there for each other.

Emily Jo is a mother of two rambunctious boys, a rusty yet enthusiastic writer, avid observer of mundane happenings, eco cleaning product advocate, wine taster, wishful green thumb, creative, and lover of the seaside. Emily Jo firmly believes we ALL have something to offer, each drawing on our unique rosary of experiences.