I Am a Mother

My Body

A not so young mother of three, ages 11, 9, & 6. All born by C-section, the first two were messy emergency deliveries, and each had their share in the NICU for our short stay. One miscarriage before my oldest, one before the middle one. My body’s been through hell and back during these child-bearing years. Stories I never want to tell expecting moms.

I reminisce on Mother’s Day, as I smother my (tall) first born in my arms, on the moment I became a mom.

No one told me it was going to be so hard in the beginning where you’re in so much pain after being cut open and sewed back together again. Where the nurse demanded me to walk myself to the bathroom then out in the hallway or else I’d swell up like a balloon, which was already the case!

No one told me that once we got home, I was supposed to take care of this little baby without any provisions from the hospital. Just to figure it out as you go – which pretty much sums up parenthood. We have great supports but in those moments of dreaded night time feeds while in zombie mode, moms step up like no other human can.

And the fact that we can produce superfood with our boobs is phenomenal. But that’s not why we are superhuman. Mothers are a different category because of the many layers of strength, love, compassion, understanding, planning, and conviction that is instilled in us to combat the degrees of variables of obstacles, worries or fears and turn them into joy.

My Heart

There is a constant battle of showing equal attention, equal love, equal time for every single one at all times. No matter what there always seems to be one who is not happy because of this and that and this and that and this and that. No matter how hard we try to accommodate.

That’s where the F-bombs and screaming come in. After all that we do as parents, there’s always the one who throws the last straw as if they’re testing the grounds for messy explosives. This mom was not built for that last straw. Once my cup is full, it pours out in profanities. So beware and be brave.

Patience at negative zero.

The reason why I created my blog Dr Jekyll Mommy Hide. A place where I can secretly hide to vent about what happens when the triggers are pulled. Then how I heal by loving hard with open heart while being ever so grateful for my life. Making everyone promise, including myself, to be better next time.

The mixed emotions of parenting on top of being a working mom, leads me turning to writing time and time again. The process is so therapeutic and keeps me in my sacred safe zone. I can lock myself in this process even when I don’t have anything to say because there’s always an endless flow, is what I ultimately learn in the end.

I felt the nudge to accept that, as writing is my secret hiding place, I need to learn how to be more open to share.

My Soul

Without a doubt, I love and adore my kids, and would do most things for them. Yes, they squeeze the life out of me but it’s my job to keep inflating back up until they learn to be totally independent people. I have to trust that I’m raising them with dignity, alongside my soulmate, and that everything will be alright.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to use my sacred tools as a therapeutic process to ground and filter all depths of emotions of motherhood. Motherhood is raw but the essence of my soul is a part of them. To feel beautiful, ugly, sane, crazy, lovely, chaotic all at the same time in our pack of five. Somehow, we survive.

Right now for as long as it will last, I’m a happy mother. 😉

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