Twenty Years of Motherhood

Today is a special day, my friends. On July 6, 1998 my sweet boy Reuben was born, and today he turned 20. That means I have been a mother for twenty years. I am not really sure how that’s possible. I think I am somewhere around 25. I definitely don’t have my shit together. How can it be that I have been a mother for two decades?

His birth was pretty incredible. He was born at home in a big black Rubbermaid agricultural feeding trough that my midwife used as a birthing tub. No one, myself included, expected the labor to be so short, so I spent much of transition on my own while the midwife apprentice and my husband ran around the house gathering supplies. At one point I yelled out, “Um, excuse me! Can someone please help me?!” The main midwife arrived just in time for me to start to push. After he was born, I was so excited that I didn’t even know he was a boy for a good ten minutes. He was wrapped up and nursing when I realized I hadn’t noticed.

He's 6 weeks in this picture. His baby album is in a box somewhere, but I was able to put hands on this one.

Becoming a mother is a funny thing. As soon as he was born, I was flooded with the most incredible and overwhelming sensation of unconditional love. In fact when I called my mother I immediately apologized for what a shit I was as a teenager and told her I had never realized how much she loved me. I knew immediately there was nothing that could ever diminish that love. I knew immediately I would throw my body between him and any danger and potentially eat anyone who tried to harm him. At the same time I laid him on the bed that night to sleep between my husband and me, and I thought it was so weird to have a stranger sleeping in my bed. I knew almost nothing of that little person.

Here he's 3.5, shortly after the birth of his sister. I love how exhausted I look.

I have often said motherhood is like the shortcut to enlightenment. I think of all the different mystics who seek to love everyone in that way, but without children I just don’t even know how you could have a reference point. I’m a long ways from loving everyone without condition, but at least I have a touchstone for what it looks like. Kids also give an infinite opportunity for growth. They are more than happy to mirror all our unhelpful thoughts, attitudes, patterns, and actions. Over and over and over again. They are also very happy to push our buttons and move us to the absolute edges of our patience. We are regularly sleep deprived, and most of us are driven to drink. They show us our dark edges. They expose our impatience and lack of muchness. They call a spade a spade and don’t think twice to tell the truth. It’s magical and beautiful and infuriating.

I was 23 when Reuben was born, and it is now difficult for me to remember what it was like to not have children. I am a mother. It is a central part of my identity. I give so much of myself to my children. I believe firmly this is a spiritual contract and that I am bound to do whatever I can to nurture them physically, emotionally, and spiritually while preparing them to function independently. I don’t believe they belong to me, but I do believe in my commitment to them. It seems a lot of people have kids and then just slough them off and wonder why they don’t visit or call when they’re grown. I very much want to parent the way I do, but I also feel committed, almost honor-bound, to it.

Of course the trouble with raising independent, well nourished kids is they just move right on out with no trouble. That’s wonderful to be sure, but when Reuben moved out shortly before turning 17, it was like a piece of my soul being ripped from my body. I couldn’t breathe correctly. I felt a very literal aching emptiness. It was awful. It gets easier I guess, but it’s still awful. Don’t get me wrong, I am pretty much ready to be done with the parenting of little kids. The factory is definitely closed, and while I will always treasure memories of nursing and sticky hands and toddler hugs and rambling stories and super silly jokes, I am pretty close to ready to just be a sea witch and live alone in my little hut with regular visits from the kids and grandkids. Still. Watching them leave is excruciating.

What have I learned in two decades of motherhood? I am more patient and impatient than I realized. I can give and receive love I could not have even dreamed of before Reuben was born. I have learned to tone down both my voice and my rhetoric. I have learned the pre-motherhood platitudes are pretty much absurd. I have learned to appreciate more fully what is right in front of me in this now moment. I have learned to stop and give a hug at almost any moment, no matter how important what I’m doing may seem. I have learned that children are physically, emotionally, and spiritually resilient, and so am I. I have learned that children are far more brilliant than we give them credit for. I have learned to trust them with their freedom. I have learned children are naturally empathetic and compassionate but none of us are like that all the time. I have learned to allow myself to express my emotions and share where I’m at and then let it go. I have learned to say sorry and to forgive. I have learned manners are taught but respect is earned - much faster when reciprocated. I have learned to trust children’s intuition. I have learned that much of the world treats children like shit and that the vast majority of the current educational paradigm is total and complete dog shit. I have learned to speak up - both for them and for myself.

It’s the best gig going, and I am so grateful for this day I became a mama, this day the beautiful and amazing Reuben was born.

The day Solomon was born (he helped time contractions). He's also the most amazing big brother ever.

Much love, y’all!

As always, all pics are mine or pixabay unless otherwise noted.

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