Anna: The Shift of Motherhood

I recently read the following quote in a parenting book: "You should study not only that you become a mother when your child is born, but also that you become a child."  Karen Maezen Miller, the author of the book, "Mama Zen," credits these words to Dogan, a Buddhist philosopher and monk who lived almost 800 years ago.  Such a message is like the light from a distant star, a beam which shoots across inconceivable spans of time and distances of space to reach our modern eyes.  Words like these may have originated long ago in an era I cannot imagine, in a language I cannot speak and from a source long since deceased.  Still, the message is not only enduring but universal to any parent, in fact, enduring because it is universal.  Anybody who knows the radical reordering of oneself that happens as one falls into the role of parent recognizes the deep wisdom in Dogan's message.  It is a role I, myself, assumed over three years ago now when our son, Luke, was born and it is a role that profoundly shook and rearranged my drive and purpose in living.

"Mother" is something a woman does every day after the birth of her child and so each day becomes.  As easy as it is to satisfy the definition of mother, to leave the definition here would be like wading only ever in the warmth and calmness of bay waters and saying you know the ocean.  "Mother" is a word like a prism.  The definition is the shell of cold crystal and the breath of meaning is the light of experience that bursts through this glass in a colorful show.  "Mother," then, is much more than what a woman becomes with the shift from "am not" to "am" at a child's birth.  In my experience, it has not been a static state but, instead, a title which continues to deepen and ripen over time as both my son and I grow together to fill the space of our respective roles in each other’s lives.        

Motherhood is a state of living in extremes.  In my experiences with Luke I have known the most profound and intense joy, pride, happiness and gratitude as I’ve watched and relished in his transformation from a floppy baby bird of a being swaddled in my arms to a now fully articulate and imaginative boy so bursting with personality he almost seems to radiate at times.  Simultaneously, I’ve experienced with Luke overwhelming senses of anxiety, frustration, exhaustion and helplessness.  Never in my life have I felt, for example, so defeated and emotionally depleted as in times of Luke’s tantrums, common occurrences in our home during his 2’s.  The drain from my core during his raging fits proved challenging in seemingly insurmountable ways.  Now almost 3 and a half, Luke has mostly mellowed and has certainly become more reasonable and rational.  His tantrums have somewhat subsided and, when they do occur, I’m seasoned enough now in dealing with them that I can abandon my urge to tame them and, instead, ride the wave of them until their extinction.  Luke always eventually regains composure just like smoldering embers always eventually extinguish. 

In the end, I’ve learned more from Luke and from myself in my new role for Luke that motherhood is not an instinctual switch which flips in our brains with the birth of a child, after which time our lives as nurturers proceed on auto pilot.  Motherhood is, instead, a process which highlights the ultimate process of growth and change we’ve all known and experienced since our own lives began at birth.  Motherhood is something I work every day to be and do and strive to be and do to the best of my ability.  Sometimes I feel a joy in my days with Luke so palpable it’s as though, with his arrival, a new and separate heart has grown inside my chest.  Other days, I find myself in tears, at a loss, guilt-ridden and defeated in light of my lack of patience with him, my frustration or even so much as my abrupt tone of voice with him in light of both. 

Ultimately, motherhood, in even these three short years, has opened doors in me, sparked friendships and taught me the importance of allowing a space for imperfections for it is only in such spaces that true growth can happen.  Luke is my greatest, deepest joy and hope.  He is also my greatest challenge, my most profound lesson in living.  Motherhood has sprouted new life in the life I once thought complete and, in a sense, I found the groove I’ve been seeking when I became a mother.  In other ways, I realize that motherhood is a cocoon for alchemy within me so that, as I usher the transformation of Luke and prepare him for individuality and independence in the world, I also witness an equally profound shift within myself and, amidst these rapid changes, remember to preserve my own individuality and independence despite this all encompassing role of mother.