The most difficult thing that I had to get my head around when my son was born, was that I had a new part to my identity. Not one of those blessed people who grew up wanting and preparing for children, I was at quite a loss as to how to act and even how to perceive myself as “mother”. I remember one day my own father telling my then toddler son to go see mom and didn’t even turn to greet him, because in my mind he was going to see mom, you know, MY mom, the only mom. Oops.
Well, now hearing, mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom (you get the idea) has sunk in the idea that these, now two boys, are in fact my children, I am their mom, my own mother has graduated to nana, and this is not in fact the most underpaid babysitting gig of my life.
Every day I learn something new about the part of my identity that is mom. And with joy I have chosen to lay aside a number of other parts of myself to allow the mom part to grow and love and give and learn. I still cling to taking care of my health and my spirit and get up hours earlier than the household to embrace that small time to find peace and healing for my mind, my body, and my soul. In this season in my life where I am called mom more often than Chantelle, I am sowing seeds for what I believe will be a beautiful harvest in another season to come.
