Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Weight

It felt nice. The weight of the baby on my chest tonight. The weight of a dreamer who is in four weeks going to be the reason we celebrate the last first birthday.

Rocking was never something I was comfortable with. I was constantly told, as with many moms, not to spoil my babies by rocking them or letting them sleep on your chest. I wish I hadn't ever listened before. Now that I am a veteran mom I know how to separate and accept what I am willing to listen to and let other things go. I love rocking that little girl after her late night bottle. She just sleeps and I have perfect access to my favorite spot. Her forehead. 

Her forehead smells better than anything on this planet. I love rocking her, feeling her breathe and just inhaling her scent. It's intoxicating. It's relaxing. It's something I need to do more often. 

The weight of her body completely relaxed pressing. Against mine, knowing I have her safely in my arms. I love doing this. It's something I feel calms me and brings me to center with them. I should rock all of them. All the weight of motherhood just resting against me. Us connecting. Knowing we are okay. 

It's funny though that the weight of motherhood can become so heavy when we don't see the weight as a gift. It's a job no doubt. A job that probably means more to the world than any other. The weight of our responsibility shapes generations. And periodically, okay frequently, I resent that weight. 

I don't want to do it any more. Carry it. I don't want to feel the pressure against me. My shoulders are sore. My feet ache. But. I go on. Because that's what we do.

I also change my perspective. It's interesting that on my terms I love and soak up any snuggle opportunities. Yet. At two in the morning I am frustrated, annoyed, and cold to my kids that need me. The weight of their bodies has not changed. I have. My view. My value of their weight. Changed. 

I have a task set before me. Change my view of it. Change the way I see it all. Because, they are the same each day. They are the same kids with the same issues. It's my view of it and it's impact on my life and my day and my wants and my selfishness are what change. That's a hard home to grow up in. Never knowing who you will get. The mom who loves to give and serve. Or, the mom who is annoyed you even exist. 

I am striving to appreciate the weight that's been assigned to me. Eager to thrive and enjoy it. Each day is a beautiful gift with them. They are funny and curious and joyful. I am so grateful for them. 


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