Like the moon’s steady ocean tug, memories hover, insistent, drawing me in….
Your earliest tenuous baby flutters deep inside me… growing so quickly into strong jabbing kicks. You bruised my ribs…
Lying in bed, my swollen tummy pressed up against your father’s back….
keeping him awake so he too could feel your kicks.
The immediate first smells and sounds of you, the feel of you outside of me…
a still wet, slippery, bloody body, so small, so fragile, yet so powerful. New baby cries that reached into the deepest parts of me and changed me forever, – changed us forever
Quiet tender predawn feedings in the rocking chair…
the sweet milky smell, your impolite loud suckling gurgles, your soft warm hair, your eyes locked onto mine
The first born son had to adjust when joined by a little sister, I discovered how love that seemed so complete and focused on the first child expands to welcome the next.
I awake these Mother’s Day weekends awash in memory…..
emotions hard to control …..
Images of your childhoods peppering my thoughts, forcing me to slow down…
I remember your accomplishments…
– for you insisted on growing up –
one-by-one you shed the trappings of childhood….
potty chairs and car seats, sippy cups and training wheels.
Family routines evolved around school terms, spelling lists, exam timetables, holidays on the Hawkesbury, hikes in the bush, days at the beach.
Each of you discovered separate independent interests and directions and I learned to sew achievement badges on cub scout shirts and ribbons on ballet shoes
I could no longer kiss you in front of your friends, and then, quite suddenly and with embarrassing delight, I could again!
I remember trips to emergency rooms, asthma attacks, stitches and casts, forcing ourselves to stay calm when we wanted to panic.
There were little kid time-out rulings as you asserted your independence or times when we were refereeing sibling rivalry clashes. We struggled in new ways that were somehow even scarier, our footing less sure than your own as you demanded to be heard, you demanded to be your own self, dared to be ‘not-us’…
Our words in these times needed to be honest sensitive to the needs of a teenager grappling with academic challenges, elusive self confidence, searching for personal direction. Our needs and capacities for forgiveness were tested. Our abilities to heal were strengthened.
You are all grown up now, graduations, doomed romances, courtships and weddings have been survived and celebrated and the family has expanded. The incredible gift of a grandchild has blessed us and we re- visit the astonishing experience that loving a baby brings. Ironically, today, my own mother, is sometimes as dependent on me as you were as a young child. The circle of life moves on.
And so, I awake from my reverie….I look out and remember again, remember that I am
not alone….
I look out to all you gathered in this place this evening – female and male, old, young and in-between, parents and children, wise and foolish, human and humane. I remember that motherhood is not just about me….
We remember again that we are a village….
a relationship, a web of connections, a messy, changing, imperfect, sensual, organic, beautiful, vibrating whole.
For we are here for each other. Together we make each of us better – better mothers, better children, better humans, better citizens.
We remember that some of us are hurting. We need to be mothered, held, bolstered. Some of us have families wrenched apart by dysfunction or addiction, we have holes inside where something or someone is missing….
we have hurts that never seem to really heal…
We remember families where youthful exuberance turned to car crash nightmares. We think of those whose children are away in distant cities and countries, too far away to touch, to protect.
We remember that some parents have recently died and that some of us, even now, hold our parents’ hands as they journey through their own final days and weeks.
Sometimes this whole web-of-life thing just seems too much…..But then we remember again…..we remember children singing…..open mouths and open hearts, swaying and wiggling, full of life and dreams. ‘From Little Things Big Things Grow’ and ‘Its a Wonderful World’, hope and future…..
laughter and love…. their contagious joy draws us to them, back into dreams and away from our selves….
And I wonder, what would it be like if everyday everywhere and for everyone, the day started by being kissed by child song and boldly blessed with childlike laughter and hope……
Mary Ackerson C3Exchange May 13, 2012
With modifications by Sharon Howe, May 12, 2013
Image: Egg Swing by Mikala Dwyer. Commissioned by Woollahra Council the interactive work represents fertility and recognises the historical contribution of the Royal Hospital for Women, Paddington.