And what I didn’t say out loud is this:
I’m shocked that that shocks you. And I’m not… because I was you. I also had no idea.
I took Motherhood and Mothers for granted. I never understood the amount of work, the hardship, the isolation and the love. I never thought the transformation would be this deep, but when you’re torn open and slapped in the face with a love that’s bigger than you ever thought possible, something is bound to happen. It’s like a slap in the face you give yourself when you’re feeling pretty sleepy and you’re trying to wake up. First a light tap-tap-taping and then it starts to sting and then, only then, do you begin to awaken. It's startling. And hard. Waking up is hard.
But it hurts so good.
1 year ago today I laboured and pushed and bled. I swore, I cried and I breathed. 1 year ago I was birthed a different person. My body shook and the downward force rocked me so hard it felt as if my pelvis was splitting in two. And in a way, it was. I became two.
For awhile I wanted to hold onto what I knew; what I had learned to be true before.
But it was no longer my truth.
I had lists of things I would and wouldn’t do.
I had plans.
I had a vision of myself that I had to let die - a vision of how life would be. In the dying and decay of my previous self, I was born a Mother.
My hair fell out. Not all of it, no, but all the blonde has gone. Motherhood wants me as a brunette.
Motherhood has me heavier.
Motherhood has me spacier.
Motherhood often has me void of conversation and choosing to be home.
My clothes are different because they have to be. I stand in front of my closet trying to understand how to dress someone I don’t totally know; “Who am I anyways?"
But I’m feeling whole and this wholeness came thru the breaking of birth. The rupture opened the rapture.
So yea... I’m different. I’ve been born again because now, I’ve witnessed real-life magic and now, I see that I AM MAGIC.