And then I heard my littlest one….awaking next to me.  He cooed, he stretched, and he opened his eyes with a smile.  Pure joy radiated from his sweet little face.

Suddenly it all became clear.  “It’s a NEW DAY”, my spirit said to me.  “Just receive this day as the new beginning that it is.  Do not think of what’s to come, or what was yesterday….just open your heart and mind to NOW.”

We’ve all heard of “All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”….Well, all I need to know, I’m  learning from my sweet baby boy.  This is what he teaches me:

When you open your eyes in the morning,

Watch the sunlight patterns dancing on the ceiling.

When you’re hungry, stop at nothing and

Eat until you are satisfied and full.

When your heart is grieving,

Cry it all out and hold nothing back.

When you want something,

Reach with all your might…and if it is not in your grasp,

Find something else that intrigues you.

Laugh – just because it’s a fun thing to do!

Look at friends, neighbors, and strangers with an open spirit –

As if you’re seeing each person for the first time.

Laugh, laugh, and laugh again.

Then curl up into the arms of mother earth/god/the universe,

And rest ~ knowing that your needs are met.

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Although I can recall a number of times I’ve cried in front of my sewing machine alone in the wee hours of the night – usually due to both machine and user tension issues. But all in all I’m a pretty tough lady. And why would I ever have the need to cry? I’ve got my act together and life has always been exactly the way I planned it.

And then one Tuesday Fall evening it happened for the first time in almost eleven years. My husband saw me cry. I cried. I cried with every ounce of my being. I cried a never-ending stream of tears. I cried to the point of hyperventilation. I cried to the point where no words could be spoken. So what could bring this emotionally hard-as-nails woman to her knees in an instant? With a toddler at my waist, a one year old on my left hip and a positive pregnancy test in my right hand there was nothing I could do but cry. Since I wasn’t capable of speaking I handed the test packet to my husband. He pulled out the “Do Not Eat” preservative sachet in the packet with the test stick and with all seriousness he said he wasn’t sure how to read this but he assumed the test was positive. My husband’s reaction was quite different than mine. He was over the moon with excitement about having another baby 19 months after my one-year-old daughter was born who is only 21 months younger than my son.

I cried that evening and I cried the next several days. But eventually I stopped crying and did something I had never done before. I relinquished myself to the fact that there is a higher force out there far beyond my understanding and definitely far beyond my control that has a plan for me and has a plan for this child. Needless to say this pregnancy was not expected or planned for. To the contrary it was planned against. Now I’m not an expert, but isn’t birth control supposed to control birth?

I’m a control person, yes I admit it. I like to control everything and I meticulous plan for every detail in my life. Before retiring into motherhood I worked as an IT software analyst where there were problems but every problem had a solution and I satisfyingly found them. There is an order to software systems and I loved it. Even my children were meticulously planned. I got pregnant exactly when I planned to with both of my beautiful children. I even planned to have a son and then a daughter. Not sure exactly how I controlled for that, but I did. So how dare mother nature and this force beyond my control make plans for me without my consent?! Oh but she/he/it did.

Since the day I stopped crying I decided to let a little bit of my control go and put it into the good hands of this universe and to my surprise an incredible weight was lifted from me. Not literal weight of course because mother nature is packing that one me now, but rather the weight I was taking on by filling every second of my being with thoughts like: how will I fit three car-seats in my beloved HHR, will I be able to handle the inevitable chaos that must come with having 3 babies, can we ever travel again, how will we afford this, will I ever get back into my career, what are people going to think of me, my god what will the neighbors say. Unlike my last career as a software analyst I have no answers. And for the first time in my life I’m ok with that. I somehow silenced myself of all those anxieties that erupted from a lack of pre-planning. And silence never felt so comfortable. For the first time let go and let be. And right there was a gift of hopefully many to come from this baby number three. I’m calling this gift humility. And anyone who knows me knows that humility was a much-needed gift. So maybe this gift is just part of the great plan this universe has for this child.

When I told a friend I was pregnant again she said God must have big plans for this baby to beat the odds coming into this world. Maybe he or she will find a cure for cancer or create a non-fat chocolate that tastes good. And with that I agreed whole-heartedly, questioned nothing, relinquished myself, silenced myself, and opened me and baby number three to this mighty, powerful, great and all-controlling universe. I have a feeling I’ll be doing much of that five months from now. And I’m ready for it! Thank you baby number three for your unexpected yet precious gift.

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He changed me. Not for the better or the worse. He changed me in every imaginable way possible so that I am no longer a woman unto myself but a mother unto the world.

His vision, his soul, his wondering eyes and forgiving heart tell me each and every moment that he is my guide and I am forever lost in his vision. Not lost in shadow but simply no longer a shadow of my former self.

I am his mother. The mother he chose, the mother I promised I would become. I am her now. Standing strong, embracing all that is wrapped in the womb of motherhood. The brilliant sights, sounds, visions, and apothecary of love… in every moment of every day I celebrate the woman he discovered when he was born. The woman that emerged just as he did.

I love her as she is the perfect vision in his eyes and now in her own. I take this not for granted but for my heart to expand and multiply.

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It’s like rock climbing for me (at least).  The climb up seems impossible, all of a sudden there’s anxiety and a new fear of heights. Then when I get to the top, it’s just perfection . . . All is as it should be.  Each climb seems like the first, a completely new challenge . . . we forget about all those other climbs and how wonderful they proved to be.
Then I turned around again and my baby is looking more and more like a little lady!  When did she get so sassy and the “Why?” question appeared out of nowhere and won’t stop. 

There are days when my creative energy is so focused on answering that crazy “why” question that I feel to tired to think about other anything when my mama quiet time comes late at night.

These growth spurts and molars are slowly killing me . . . Or saving me.  Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, maybe it’s the lack of sleep or forgetting to eat because my child was extra needy today.  All in all, everyday is a good day. 

These little things that can frustrate me are really quite amazing. She’s wanting to walk around in her own world and explore, she has definite ideas and NO ONE, no adults or other children will ever change her mind and I love that about her.

I just need to BREATHE . . . And laugh and think about all the wonderful things happening in that learning mind.  Then the creativity won’t stop, because a child is so full of hope and possibility and it just rubs off on me. Being able to watch them grow is a miracle to say the least.

Raising a child is just as much about raising and healing yourself.  It’s the best job in the world and far too under rated.

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Some days it all falls into place
the rhythm, the magick of chores
I am the mama I want to be

Through it all I see those deep brown eyes
seeing me with a wisdom I have long forgotten
With a newness & hope I sometimes forget

Your soul reminds me what I must do
slow down . . .  enjoy the moment
be it perfect or heinous . . .
all is as it should be

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And my 3 year-old is up. Asking for breakfast. I tell her it’s too early and make a bargain. Warm milk for more sleep. She promises me nothing as she takes the milk from my husband.

The baby is still complaining so I abandon sleep, find my glasses, wrap her against my body and prepare to start the day. I like getting an early start. I’m my mother’s child and remember her always being up before dawn cleaning, cooking, praying.  I still know I can call my parent’s house before 6 AM. They’ll both be up just having completed their 5 AM prayers.

Growing up I remember warning my sleepover mates, “Oh by the way, my parents, especially my dad, starts praying at around 4:45 in the morning. It’s not quiet white people prayer either, it’s loud Nigerian singing prayer so…don’t freak out.”

The baby is wrapped, I’m up bouncing her to no music. I put on a CD. Peter Kater’s soundtrack from “10 Questions for the Dalai Lama.” Never saw the film but the passion he puts into his music reminds bleed all over everything I do. There’s nothing to save ourselves for, no reason to be stingy with our spirits. Maybe that’s another reason we have monthly periods. To remind us that life was meant to flow outside of our individual bodies.

She’s still fussing. Even wrapped. I take her to the living room window. It’s as dark as midnight before the sun breaks into day. It feels like the middle of the night. Streetlamps tell me it rained. Early risers head to work. I can see their brake lights. A woman walks her dog.

I perch my computer on a shelf and get ready to cram as much work in as I can. I love getting an early start. It’s a game I play. How much work can I get done before the sun arrives. I race the big ball of burning gas and challenge her. I always win.

She’s still complaining. Now she’s stretching her body against the wrap as if trying to escape. Where are you going, child? Crying.

I go between bouncing around the room and attempting to type. She won’t let me.

Resentment bubbles up…I breathe. I abandon my computer and head into the back guestroom. I take her out of the wrap and ask her if she wants to nurse. She does. A little. She snacks. Not really hungry. I look at her face and ask her what she’s trying to teach me. I really want to work right now.

I relax my mind and lose my expectations. I think of myself as everything and nothing. Six weeks ago she was born and I remember the moment in labor, it must be a universal experience, where I faded so much into the moment that I didn’t care whether I lived or died. It’s not because of any pain or fatigue, life or death just lost all meaning and all that mattered was completion; the manifestation of the present moment. That experience must be what everyone who meditates is trying to break through to. I remember it clearly with both labors but more with the second because I was alone. Nothing mattered except completion; there was no attachment to any particular outcome.

She calmed down. Her eyes are black, just like her sister’s. So deep and black. The baby looked at me and said, “If you can’t be anything more than a to do list, I’m sad. That is a tragedy.”

OK. I understand.

I put her back in the wrap. As I placed her legs between the folds of brown fabric she burped and smiled at me. Silly girl.

I didn’t see the sun rise but as the sky went blue I knew morning had come. And she slept.

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You who are called by a thousand names,

May all remember

We are cells in your body

And dance together.

You are the grain and the loaf

That sustains us each day,

And as you are patient with our struggles to

learn, so shall we be patient

With ourselves and each other.

We are radiant light and sacred dark

-the balance-

You are the embrace that heartens

And the freedom beyond fear.

Within you we are born,

We grow, live and die -

You bring us around the circle

To rebirth,

Within us you dance

Forever.

~Starhawk, in Earth Prayers

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The sun warms and glows while the moon drains the warmth in return for a cherished calling. The cranberry sun offers ringing dreams. The silent moonbeams bring time for reverence and solitude.

Carry the torch of night with you throughout the day and you will find the birth of gifts not yet known. Nighttime brings birth from a place of truth and sacrifice that the light does not always hit. Share the beams and give rise to the dreams that prevail in the light of day.

Circling the earth as moonbeams do your face unfolds to a heightened state of grace and untold stories. These are the places you seek to reside. What you need is to reside within all light and fan the flames of darkness in shared equality with the sun.

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On every plane of existence we share a mother… the mother within… the heartbeat of humanity. The earth, the voice of calm and peace we find in our darkest hour.

The beauty of life itself beats within us and that is the voice of our eternal mother.  Our home. Our truth.  Breathe it in and listen to it’s pulse. You will find that it beats to the rhythm of your own.  Because she is you and you are she.

Man or woman, we all carry a mother within us and we are to be honored and loved and thus mothering our mother by loving ourselves unconditionally.

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Here’s a note to less multi-tasking and more living in the moment… More libraries and bus rides. Less to-do lists, more play-doh! Less time trying to distract my kids, and more time enriching them. Less time outs, and more time outside. Not waiting “just a minute” to read that book, or play blocks.

Here’s to less time scrubbing! My house is far from spotless, you’ll find crumbs on my floor, laundry to be done, and dishes in my sink. But at the end of the day, I am a happy mom, and wife.
I am blessed to be surrounded by some beautiful, strong women, who teach me to follow my heart, I don’t know where I would be without my circle of friends, we don’t spend as much time together as we’d like, (or just live too far… like in Canada!) we’re all on the same boat

I am excited to embrace this new shift, and looking forward to the journey. Off to nurse my baby, and snuggle all my boys. Perfect. Life IS good.

Happy Mother

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