Regaining Courage

A friend mentioned to me a piece of wisdom that her mother shared with her and now I'll pass it on....

Over the course of motherhood you have to get your courage back. That sentiment has been especially important to me as I've struggled through the first couple of months of motherhood. Worrying all the time, feeling guilty and inadequate. In many ways, each day is about regaining my courage to face the world as the competent, capable person I thought myself to be (before the test of motherhood).

A second gem came through a story:

A woman with four or five kids playing in a park sat peacefully and calmly on a bench. When questioned about her serene state in the midst of minding after her children, she said: "I used to worry all the time, and then one day I met God."

My friend took from this story we do the best we can and then we let God do the rest. Wow, why didn't I get that having known God for a while now? I think I'm finally starting to get it now.

Girl-Child

I am ever-grateful for my sweet baby girl.

On Mother's Day a friend wrote about how grateful he was for his mother who raised a family, worked full-time, and still maintained a sense of self. His words were "and still made space for her own individuality".

I hope that one day my child feels the same. Sometimes I'm so afraid to fail my child as a mother. She is the most beautiful, precious person I know, and I want her to grow up to be the self-confident, brilliant young woman I know she can be.

It's strange how "traditional" ideals of what a woman should be manifest themselves in my proudly feminist life. I at once couldn't imagine handing over the care of my most precious gift to someone else, so that I might go work. On the other hand I long to contribute my thoughts and ideas to the world through work. I'm unsure how this dichotomy will resolve itself in the future, but I am hopeful that it will be resolved through thought and prayer.

The Power of the Universe Knows My Name

"My God calls to me in the morning dew/
The Power of the Universe knows my name/
Gave me a song to sing and sent me on my way/
I raise my voice for justice, I believe "
I remember, I believe
Sweet Honey in the Rock

It's hard to believe. I love the song "I remember, I believe" because it gives examples of why we might believe. We believe because we remember where we came from,
because sometimes despite a lack of technical understanding of something we witness it happening, so we must believe, because we are evidence of the belief, because the power of the universe knows each and every one of our names.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that belief isn't as hard as it sometimes seems.

Booties for my baby!

I can now knit scarves AND booties. Now all I have to learn how to do is crochet a blanket for our little guy or gal in the next week and a half :-P

Resolutions

To remember that everyday is a gift.
To live life in the moment, appreciative of what I have now:
Reflective of how I am using my time,
Thankful for the many blessings I have,
Unafraid of mistakes.

Coloring Outside the Lines

Maybe its because I'm an oldest child, coming from a long line of oldest children (or oldest girl children at the very least), but its hard for me to color outside the lines. My sister pulled out a coloring book and crayons and as I sat trying to color in a picture, I neatly traced the outline of the figures, then carefully colored in the various pictures/shapes/etc. At some point, I thought to myself, why do I feel the need to trace the figure before I color it in, why don't I just color and see where it takes me. I dared myself to color outside the lines, but I couldn't do it. I literally couldn't color outside of the lines in a coloring book, which raises many questions for me about how I can or can't color outside of the lines in a more figurative sense.

As is natural I'm sure, with about two and a half weeks left until our baby is due, questions about motherhood swirl in my brain constantly. At the same time, questions of when and how to pursue a Ph.D. also swirls. I wonder if I want to pursue that degree for the sole purpose of coloring within the lines of some predefined definition of who I am, or if its something I really want. I'm unclear. If its a definition that I've imposed upon myself, can't I just redefine? If its deeper than that, how do I figure out what the root cause is?

Revolutionaries don't color inside the lines. People who actually make a difference, impact other people's lives don't do so by coloring within the lines. Does that mean that I'll have a hard time being consequential? I suppose that's maybe what it all boils down to....

As I finish this post the wind is swirling outside my window, its still dark, early in the morning. The wind doesn't try to be consequential, but is nevertheless. I suppose a fear is that some people are born with the gifts to make a difference, and some other people, no matter how hard they try, aren't.

To be young, gifted, and Black:

I sit with a swollen belly, before a mountain of housework and I wonder what it means to be young, gifted, woman, and Black.

I contemplate the greatness of motherhood in the shadow of a job I don’t have, and degrees that currently only keep my dusty resume warm at night.

I wonder, if I’ll one day be ready to let the little boy or girl in my womb go to daycare, so that I may resume my quest to be identified as one of the young, gifted, and Black.