It is the end of the day and I watch you all sleep. I savour your beauty, your stillness, and the wonderous people that you are.
I think about the little things you do that make me smile, and I tell myself to remember them….but so often I forget.
Tonight I try to remember….
My compassionate little L; I notice the way you clasp your little hands together as you sit peacefully and contentedly, looking out the window. I wonder what you are thinking. I want to know; I want to ask you, but I resist…your thoughts are your own.
Your eyes seem like they have been here before; they are knowing eyes. They appreciate the abundance and the beauty, and it’s like they know…everything will be ok. You are only three, but you are growing so fast, and learning so much.
My sensitive, thoughtful J; I notice the way you take so much in. The world and all its wonders and mysteries fill your thoughts night and day. You crave knowledge, and your questions lead to more questions.
I can see you thinking as you stare off into space, with an intensity and energy that radiates from your body. Cloaking me with a desire to know what it is like in your thoughts, to experience your reality. But I cannot, as it is your own. You are only five, but you are growing so fast, and learning so much.
And my sweet little J; I notice the way you watch your older brothers; the way your face lights up when you hear their voices. You are still a little baby, but you already love them so much; your sibling bond is already so strong.
I notice the way you stare at my lips as I chat to you, you concentrate on my tongue and you chat back – you already have a lot to say. You are so new to this world, to our family, but your presence is already so deeply part of us – it is calm and grounding, and perfect. You are only 3 months, but you are growing so fast and learning so much.
As I watch you all sleep I lean over and touch you and breathe you in, one by one. I am filled with so much love for you all. I feel it in my stomach, and when I think about it too much it rises up, and spreads through my chest, my heart, and up to my throat. I have to take a huge breath to keep from letting it take over, and consuming me with an intensity that can quickly become too much to bear.
I’m scared to let go; I want to never let go. But I must let go…being a mother is all about letting go. So I take a breath and I try to let go.
I wonder if this is how most parents feel? Is this how my Mum feels? My Dad? I suspect so. I wasn’t prepared for this…for how being a mother would feel. The joy, the pride, the love, the fear, the guilt, the vulnerability. It is wonderous and amazing, but it is also intense and relentless. So I take a breathe and try to let go.
And for now I will appreciate our slow paced life, and I will remind myself what a privilege it is to be your mother.
And I will take a breath and try to let go.