"Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you."
From Kahlil Gibran - On Children
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| The Wound of Motherhood - @2015 Jennifer L Byrnes |
The wound of motherhood - an ache that waxes and wanes as your children shift and grow and mature. An ache that contains all of your successes and failures, your proudest moments and your deepest love as you walk on the path that we call motherhood. An ache that, I am sure, never leaves even when the children are grown and gone, for a mother's love is eternal.
I have always felt things deeply but never as deeply as after I became a mother. I know I am not alone - I think a physical/mental/emotional/spiritual change comes over us when that tiny bundle of pure love is placed into our hands for the very first time. It is as if the capacity of our hearts is multiplied by infinity all at once as we gaze down on the creature that we co-created yet birthed from our own body - a tiny miracle to behold.
We all at once feel a fierce need to protect any and all harms that may come our child's way. We place our hopes and dreams inside our children. We gratefully feel their joys, frustrations, even their sadness and pain. When they are ill we are quick to hold their hands as they vomit at 4 am or to hover over them like a hawk as they lie on the couch red and feverish.
Some days I feel this wound more - every first day of school (especially kindergarten, middle school, and, when the time comes, probably high school and college too); every birthday and every lost tooth; and lately. as perimenopause gives way to menopause and I realize that yes, I really am done bearing children.
This wound of motherhood contains not only all the trials and tribulations of our time as mothers, but also all the I-can-do-its, frustrations, broken hearts, scraped knees, nightmares, and daydreams of our children. Their pain is our pain.
We want to be there for them always, but sometimes that is to our detriment when we constantly put our children before ourselves while our soul withers and thirsts for the nourishment of fulfilled dreams and its very own place in the world. This too is the wound of motherhood - of finding a place for oneself amidst the role of caretaker, lunch maker, boo boo kisser, and tucker-inner.
The crux of the wound is the fact that we know our children are not our own, they are only a gift from God that we have in our care for 18 or so years to nurture and provide guidance to. After that we have to set them free upon the world to make their own mark. This does not mean that we stop loving them, just that we have to stop holding onto that love so tightly.
And therein lies the rub - that someday we have to learn to let our children go. Many times I have heard people say "If only I could stop time and keep them little." But would you really want your kids to be forever newborn? Sure they are cute and full of peace and you could spend lifetimes just watching them sleep (because you certainly aren't getting any) but if they were that little forever you would never know what his little voice sounded like or what her very favorite song was. If they were stuck at age 4 you would indeed know what their voice sounded like (and sometimes probably would pray for earmuffs), but you wouldn't know if he would grow up to be a baseball player like he wanted or if her love of drawing with crayons blossomed into a career as a graphic designer.
We are mothers and our love never dies, it just increases. It can be seen everywhere - on earth in the beauty of a flower picked to help create cheer on a sad day, or in a blood-red lunar eclipse that has to be shared at 4 am. A mother's love is in every seed, waiting to sprout and grow.
This wound of motherhood is our very own battle scar. It shows that we risked everything to take a walk along the mothering path. With risk comes hurt and pain, for nothing is certain and life is often fleeting and cut short.
This wound is not mine alone. I feel it for all the mothers of the world. It is home to the aches of the moms in the armed forces overseas, battling for our country while they send breast milk home to their babies. This ache is shared with the single mother who barely gets to spend time with her children because she works two jobs in order to put food on the table. It especially resides with the warrior moms of special needs children.
Today I feel my wound a little more, as I mourn along with a cousin I have never met who recently lost her daughter, a woman my age who was a mother herself. This ache shares compassion with a friend who is apart from her daughter as she prepares for an ugly custody battle, and for the extra inner and outer strength my cousin has had to foster so she can take care of her 7 year old son who has diabetes.
If my heart could talk this is what she would say, to me and to all the mothers out there who are brave enough to feel the wound of motherhood:
"Feel your wound, feel its ache, feel its power.
Carry it and display it proudly. This ache is what keeps you connected, both to your children and to yourself. The ability to feel is what keeps us alive.
Let it make you both strong and vulnerable. Without feeling we are nothing.
Love this wound, even when it hurts so bad you want to rip it out of your chest. Cherish it and nurture it and let it grow.
Love your children deeply and dearly, but love yourself the most so you have some left to give back to them."
I love you mother warriors! Please feel free to share in the comments about your wounds. We are all in this together and each of us is doing the very best that she can. Support is what gets us through!
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