Reflections

What if I could go back and meet myself in that first season of early motherhood? Would I tell her that time is a thief that’ll break her heart? That everything’s just a phase. That she’s going to miss the cold feet looking for her warmth under the blankets in the middle of the night. The little arms glued to her, needing her, even when she’s touched out.

Would I tell her that she will sleep again? That her body will feel like her own again? Would I tell her that the mess will be gone and the loud noises will fade away? Would I beg her to cherish, savor, embrace every single moment?

No.

I’d not say a single word.

I’d let her experience it herself. I’d let her get lost and find the new version of her, the one that has been waiting, longing, ready for so long. I’d let her start again with a blank canvas full of opportunities, new goals, a different focus. I’d let her embrace the softness, the lioness – they have always been a part of her.

I want her to look at her skin, her changed body – their first home. I want her to face the loneliness of the night, waking up to the sun warming up her soul. I want her to see herself as the incredible force of nature that she is. I want her to never give up, even when things feel simply too much.

I want to hold her hands during the endless days, stroke her hair when she feels she can’t handle it anymore. Whisper her soft, calming lullabies when the darkness of the night scares her.

I want to tell her she’s incredibly strong. But I won’t. It wouldn’t mean a thing until she experiences it all herself.

So, I’ll just watch. Smile at her. Hold her in my arms.

Only then will she truly feel these words:

“I’m so proud of myself.”

Written by Carolijn Braeken, author of ‘motherhood – a memoir of our first year’.