I'm writing this as a reminder.
You often are within yourself, your own brain. Outwardly you speak loudly, you talk deeply, and babble a lot. You have a thought and run with it. No matter if it's negative or positive, you just can't hide it. For some, they might consider this your best quality, others may consider it your worse. You can't hold still. Neither in your mind or in your body. You have a constant feeling of time fleeting, and things that need to be captured, sung about, and done. You let them go, the fleeting feeling...and they return. Not to your surprise, but always to your dismay. You don't like it. You often speak nothing of it. You leave it in, hoping it disappears. Maybe if you do this then the feeling will go away. Or, if you do that, that will surely get rid of the fleeting feeling. It doesn't-nothing works. You are often jealous of those who handle task by task with such grace, with their minds probably not set on time or things to do. You want that so badly. You want ease of days and glorious hours.
You constantly over think. Your steps are in no way ordered, but as they go along, in no particular ordinance, you think. "What's my next step?" Once you arrive to the next you find that there is no thinking allowed. The steps are there, and you, you are supposed to continue stepping. Like others, step and enjoy. Not overplay, rethink, regret, and step again. You're learning this.
You constantly are at battle with you as a mother. You're embarrassed of your internal battle. But, you speak honestly and openly of it. In hopes of hearing stories of the like. You were never too happy completely home, and you are never too happy working a lot. Almost three years have passed and you still are constantly trying to find your balance. You want to give your all without feeling like you've lost...all. You aren't sure if this is a normal tug, but you do know that you want it to end. You want to be content in your position, you want to love with no regrets, but also live without any. You honor the mother who completely stays at home. Enjoying, and fully living in each moment with her little. You marvel at her selflessness. -You honor the mom who works five days a week. Coming home to cook dinner, play, and begin a bedtime routine and do it again the next day. You hurt for the ones who want to be home completely but have no choice but to work. You honor their selflessness.You hurt for you. The mother who finds herself smack in the middle. Not completely content with either life. You wonder if that peace of mind will come. You wonder if those who seem happy with whatever motherhood path they've chosen are really and truly happy. You wonder if this is baggage that gets checked with the joys of young motherhood.
Oh, do you worry. There's not a day or night that goes by where you don't cry out to God for peace. Putting all faith in him. Asking him to ease your worries. Knowing that inevitablly, it's also up to you.
You love so much. For family and friends who have come and gone. For a past that fades into memories. You love for a father that you believe you catch a glimpse of in a stranger every now again. Only to be hit with the truth once more-he's gone. The tears want to make their grand entrance, but you hold them for later. When the silence of your home lets them out. The memories let them out. The thought of his distinct and full laugh let them out.
Through it all I want you to know, you are being the best you. You hate to say that out loud, in fear that you'll be judged-it's some sort of copout. But it's true. With every task, with every failure, and triumph, you are giving your all. Trying to become a better person day by day, hour by hour. If you do nothing if you never re-read this and feel empowered or reminded of your past space or your current space, remember this: when all else fails, your a kick-ass mother. She'll remember the nights you rocked her to sleep. The days you let her climb on your back while you galloped around the house, and the mornings she woke up squeezed between you and Peter. She'll remember that. And for giving her life, and for giving her those memories, you are wonderful.
Be good to yourself.
Photos by Belle of Petite Biet