As I lay in a steaming hot water, sensual salts warming my body and rejuvenating my sleep deprived, washed out self, my eyes felt like they were fully opened, just momentarily before the fear of full change could gain traction.
I was surrounded my a Minnie Mouse bath mat, Granddad Dogs boat floating aside of me and multiples water tunnels stuck on to the wall next to me, not to mention all the ducks, numbers, cups and balls which bathed alongside me. It was cramped and colourful. In conjunction with this kiddie-laden existence which I was literally engulfed in, I lay with a (large) glass of my favourite red vino, scented candles and reminisced about how I used to do this when and how I wanted. I wasn’t fixed to a schedule, I never had routines to adhere to, I was so called “free” to do what I wanted. Whereas now, I was somewhat bound by time.
Jump back to my new existence, kid-laden and not as “free”, I lay in the bath with my two sleeping angels tucked away in their beds, and felt full, a different sense of freedom. Free from any shackles which trapped me from wanting kids, or the cells which contained me when my fear of birth overwhelmed me. One where my hands were full of blessing, nourishment and bundles of intense beauty. My sense of freedom had shifted. 100%. My so-called “freedom” is now when they are at nursery or asleep and this freedom seems so much more precious, hard earned and of much more value and worth. It is mine. I deserve it. It’s not unlimited, it’s confined and timely, but priceless.
Navigating from my current reality to my reality of the past is something I’ve toed-and-froed with for three years! Backwards and forwards. Backwards and forwards. Missing and yearning, at times, to do what I want when I want and how I want, but then the thought of forgoing this reality, never! Never ever would I give up my two angels, despite anything, for something that was fleeting, fun, frivolous and easily forgotten. It always felt like I had to have one or the other, they couldn’t co-exist. If I wasn’t 100% in mother mode, I’ve failed. But am I never 100% in work mode? No. Am I ever 100% in house mode? No. Am I ever 100% in social and relationship mode? No. So why the pressure to always be 100% in mother mode? BIG QUESTION. My narrative of motherhood is layered with pressure after pressure, to be perfect all the time, not just ordinary.
It’s so hard to have both realities living side by side and hand in hand. Intertwined. I’ve felt like I’ve had to full on switch off reality 1 for reality 2 to exist and that brought about a lot of longing for what was and somewhat, a sense of loss. Maybe life is like a game of chess, when one piece moves, it opens up space for new move. And an acceptance of this may merge all the different realities into one: because of everything which I did and achieved, of who I was and what I valued, of my choices and decisions in part 1: I am here where I am, in the perfect place I need to be in part 2.