The landscape within me changed. The geography around me shifted. I at once knew this path and my feet were at home. Yet I was also lost.
I looked at the deep lines on my belly, were they directions? Were my expanded hips and breasts there to point me in the right way as I navigated this wild territory?
I did not know at the time, how to travel, with child, through my house, to the store. Let alone, the world. Getting in the car required at least three trips to and from door.
Two years and now my son and I can walk together. The path is not easier.
I am. We are. I am more at ease with the wild of this. Better at stumbling and even falling.
My two year old likes to fall down and giggle. fall down and whine. fall down and crawl under the couch to get the balls that he repeatedly rolls under there😂 We fall together, and there is so much to see when we are that low to the round.
I don’t always rush to get up, dust off, and pull me and him and us “together”, not now.
Falling is landing, sometimes. An offering of perspective from a truly humble and grounded space.
Many of my fallings in mamahood have been just that. Necessary “slow downs”, pull backs, full stops. Essential opportunities to really really see who I am, now. Where I am, now. What matters, now.
To be sure, there’s something radiant, powerful, freeing about rising, expansion, speed, getting there fast. There’s comfort and esteem in seeming “together.”
There’s also something so honest, so real, so deep, rich, and profound in the sometimes unreasonable, seemingly detoured space of toddler land where things go to fall apart. 😂
That’s were I am at today and apparently for at least the next year, at least.
Who else is in toddlerland with me? How y’all doing?