Under a Button Nose

Motherhood is... 

Joy in my step and a drag of my right foot from the pain child bearing and child wearing has caused. 

It's presents put in my hand daily - trinkets found along the path we walk together: a bottle cap, a leaf, a stone, another cigarette butt. Some are new and some are old, rusted, falling apart to the point where I can hardly tell what they are - but to her, they are treasures. 

It's letting the dog be your best vacuum. 

It's a table unwiped and a bright red diaper rash covered in clay, coconut oil, lavender and tea tree. 

It's sand moving from her hand to her mouth and me jumping to my feet, limping until they wake up, to stop her.

It's exhaustion - not days of it, but a year of it - eyelids sweating from the work to stay open and when it’s finally time to rest, too much excitement about resting to be able to. 

It's oatmeal crusted on silken soft cheeks, pages of books glued together with dried rice and a million started, yet unfinished conversations. 

It's white noise - everywhere - even in the spaces where silence used to exist. Even at 3am, 4am, 5am and 6. 

It sounds like “no” and “bye bye”, “app-pee” and “wow”. 

It’s fingers pointing to streetlights trying to say “moon” and its a small body, shaking in it’s entirety, at the sound of an airplane flying too low. A tongue fully revealed in the wide open cry, red gums, bleeding fingers, cute toes, and thin hair curled around tiny ears, perfectly packaged under a button nose.

I’m floating, alone, ears below the water line
Here my heart sounds like the heartbeat of the earth
Breath lifts, then lowers
Even my mouth is under.

I like it this way.

Bubbles circle where water reveals my body to the air
just like lingerie with holes in all the right places.

I like it this way, too.

I open my mouth and water pours in
I let it fill as much as I can, without swallowing
Breath lifts, then lowers.
Even my eyes are under.

I want more.

I’m floating, only my nose above the water line but,
I get so comfortable a little water silks in there too. 
I let it.

Suspended between breaths -
All encompassing and totally freeing.
Weightless, thoughtless, nothingness -
I remember the first vessel I came here by,

And I think, ‘is this, my little merchild, the reason you cry? Is this my baby, a place you miss?’ 

Because I feel, I heal.

How do I go about doing this human thing on such little sleep? I feel like an animal - one with fangs and drool. There have been break downs. And break thrus.

She's in the early stages of learning to be human.

I'm still learning too.

The break downs are a portal to this open heart. Without them I'm hardened, cold and robotic.

So here I sit. Here I cry. Here I yawn.

I long.

I hope.

I yell.

I resent.

I feel.

And because I feel, I heal.

This little person... this one finally asleep next to me... she's just walking me home. Thank goodness for that. 

Remembering To Remember

And then there's moments like this where I don't wish anything different, or better, because it all feels perfect. They are a beautiful opposition to the deepest challenges I've faced yet.

In these moments, where the weight of her body is completely surrendered, I can honestly say I LOVE THIS. There's so much joy in these precious, sleepy moments. I'm reminded to take one day and one breath at a time. Breathing it all in and remembering to remember.

I See You

I see it all now.

I see you cleaning up after me as I clean up after her. We're like a train moving thru the house, following one another. I pick up toys and you pick up what I put down to be there for her.

I see your sacrifices; you'll stay home tonight because I'm visiting and I'll stay home because she still needs to nurse to sleep.

I see your struggle to make everyone happy.

I see your selflessness.

I believe you when you say you'd do anything for me.

Because now, I feel the same way.

If I could pay you back for all the sacrifices I would... but I'm too busy sacrificing.

Know that I understand.

Know that I see you Mothering me.

Know that I see you.

Thank you. 
Thank you. 
Thank you.

Yes To Loss

Some days (like today), I really feel the changes. I miss my friends. I miss flying by the seat of my pants. I miss my old definition of freedom. It's days like today that I'm super grateful for my spiritual practice within the framework of Motherhood. As I squirm in the discomfort of loss, I
remember that loosing my self is exactly the point and instead of being totally overtaken by it, I can consciously say yes to what's dying. Yes yes yes. (Repeating it helps, 'cause this ain't easy). ‪

The Perfect Mother

I faced the myth of 'the perfect mother' head on this week. Eye to eye, I stared her down (for now). She's a feisty one, instilling guilt over many choices. This stare down shook me to my core as I held my sleeping baby and wept. But that perfect mother, that myth, that vision I can't uphold left me with a gift. Now, I no longer look at my Mother from a child's eyes; we are women standing side by side, in sisterhood and Motherhood held by the depth of our love, and doing the best we know how. Thank you Mama for all that you did and do.

Bless this journey. 

We've Got Work To Do

3.5 months old: I know she looks like my husband - and I love that! But today someone told me that she won't look Asian forever because her kids started out looking that way too. She was trying to comfort me with her Caucasian child alongside.

Last week, two people asked me if she was mine.

I'm seeing a whole new angle of racism now - even in children's books which often lack kids of colour playing the lead role. World, we've got some work to do.

Bless This Journey

...And then I was pregnant.

Suddenly everything around me was part of creating a new life. A life I would love very much. A life that needed protection and nourishment. Every single piece of me and my world was going into this creation and all of a sudden, as if I woke up out of a dream, I saw things very differently.

...And then I birthed.

A whirlwind of power took over my body and connected me instantly to all the women who birthed before. I felt this world (the one I stand on with my barefeet), and another world (a deeply familiar, yet seemingly far away place that only my spirit could access), come together under the light in my bedroom. This power, this force, was so great that I saw both death and birth combine in the same moment.

...And then I became a Mother.

Nothing has reflected my humanness so deeply. Some days all I see are my flaws and I keep trying to polish that damned mirror so I can hide them from her. But I know she needs to see them and I know she needs to see me love them, because she’ll have 'flaws' too.

And then some days, I see just how great I’m doing. The power of love has opened and shifted so many of the stories I no longer need. 


13 weeks postpartum. It can be isolating - there's a whole lot of her and I for most of the days. And it can joyful beyond belief for the exact same reason. Grateful for nature sits that are balancing and nourishing both of us (and some hand chewing for her too). Delicious. 

Heart Walking

I'm aware that I now post baby pics all the time. Completely aware. It might be temporary. It might not.

The thing is, this is what I do every waking second. And sometimes the sleep filled ones too. What you may not understand (or maybe you do), is that this little being came from afar and manifested herself inside me. Inside! My blood, my cells, my breath and my thoughts have all created her. And yes this story is as old as time, and you've heard it all before... but the feelings that go along with this gift are the hardest to explain. My heart is hers.

And now she's here, with her hand on my heart as if to say she understands. 
She's learning to be human and waking me the eff up (in many ways) as we move (and sometimes trip) along this path together.

"Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." E. Stone