Mommy Thoughts

From the two tiny whispers of noise I hear upstairs, I know that it's you who is awake and not one of your siblings. I hear from that small, "oh" that you're in need of help in the bathroom. 

I run up the 18 stairs to see that I'm there a little too late. Oh well, no problem. It happens sometimes. 

I pop you into the tub and start the shower as you remind me in a small voice to make sure that it's not too 'hot-y' or too 'cold-y'. You rub your eyes, not sure if you need to cry or sleep or trust that mommy has got this under control.

I can't reach your towel so I grab my fluffy yellow one and ask in a silly voice if it's Eli or a burrito in there. Your eyes light up with a smile and a flash of fun before staring off, smile fading, as shadows of sleep invade your little face. 

I carry you to the door of your room where daddy crosses our path, mop in hand. He asks who the person is that has stolen mama's towel. You smile and whisper, "daddy..." in a tone that shows you know full well daddy is teasing. "Are you a baby again?" Daddy asks. You take a breath and think about saying, "no, a big boy" like you've been insisting these past weeks, but instead you surrender with a sigh. "Yeah."

Together we sit on the rug on the floor. I hold you and think how you will forget this night, these moments. The monotony of every day life that moulds a mother's heart. You stare at the wall behind me, eyelashes moving down and up, down and up, slowly inviting sleep. I kiss underneath your left cheek, knowing you hide a tickle in that spot. You giggle and wake enough to ensure that it's the sheriff pyjama top and red shorts that are chosen and then, instead of putting you in bed, I scoot back-against-the-wall and cradle you in my arms. Just as I've always done. 

I kiss your head through tufts of brown hair. Your breathing settles into a slow deep rhythm. Downstairs daddy makes a loud noise. He's fixing a door that won't lock, ensuring that our home is secure before bed. The noise makes you jump. I move my hand from my knee to your back. You twist your tiny body closer to mine and sigh one big sigh. 

I kiss your head 20 times more then, lifting you up and squeezing you tight. I bring you to the the bed that you and your brother have turned into a tent, while I thought that you were sleeping.

I lay you down and with eyes still closed you find your teddies and settle down. "A cuddle, mommy." Your voice muffles from behind your dodo. Once, twice, three times you adjust your little arms ensuring that the hug is tight and close. "I love you" I whisper. Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. "Love you. Too. Mommy." Sleep envelopes you. Your arms relax. I slip away. You will forget these moments, but I will not. 

International Women's Day

I sat down this evening, finally stealing some minutes to indulge in an idea I had earlier in the day. It was simple. Today, international women's day 2016, I would look through my friends list and select all the women who have inspired me and tell them why. Easy, right? Wrong. 

The problem is I have a finite amount of time and energy and as 11:50pm comes and goes I realise I have WAY more inspiring women in my life than time in the day. I started at the top of my friends list, and systematically began writing to each of you, only realising with heavy heart that I don't want to miss anyone and discourage people who had seen me write to mutual friends and not them.

So I had another idea. I scrolled through my list and paused to write descriptive words for people who stuck out. I filled a page. A whole page, you guys. I hope my technologically challenged self can stick it to this blog. 

I got to thinking about women who had encouraged me over the years. Given me a word of comfort when I needed it. Stood by me when times got tough. Trusted me with their story and honoured me as a friend in honesty and vulnerability. Laughed SO hard with me/at me. Had babies at the same time as me.

There are neighbours, aunties, cousins, sisters, fellow mothers, dear and well missed grandmothers this is only a small number. There are too many things that each of you are or have been to me. I am simply overwhelmed by the positive impact fellow women have had in my life. And here's the thing, I am only one person armed with one, relatively small, list of friends. We as a body of women are half the population of the world!

On this day, or what's left of it, I propose each of you who are reading this pick a handful of women who have inspired you or gave you encouragement, support, love or friendship - whatever it is that they have taught you, and tell them! This isn't just for the women, you men are invited to take this up too. You never know how much it will mean to say to someone, 

"when this situation happened, you had the wisdom to tell me this, and it gave me such courage/made me feel not so alone/helped me realise someone understood." 

It's just an idea, and it certainly doesn't have to be public, but there is so much value in building one another up in love and support. You'll be glad you did it.

I'm so privileged to have you ladies in my life. You are brave and you have what it takes. You are strong and wise. You are funny, smart, determined and valuable. You are people who have seen and gone through hard things and come out the other side changed and stronger. I am thankful to call you sister and friend.

I also have no idea how to stick a picture to a blog.

Depression diaries - Remembering

I can't sleep. I've never been able to sleep after an argument if it hasn't been resolved, and so, I lie here awake thinking and remembering. 

I'm becoming aware of this nauseous feeling filling my heart rather than my stomach. I don't think I've had a nauseous heart before! It causes me to run the numbers and find, to my disbelief, that it was on Valentine's day last year that I walked to our highway and planned to not come back. My heart is pounding now, probably in the same way every person's heart who cared for me at the time did. I wish I could speak to last-year me. I wish I could draw along side her and comfort her. I would hold up a looking glass to the year to come and watch her expression change from confusion to surprise. From despair to hope. From pain to disbelief with how things would change, how *I would change. She would take a deep breath and sigh the weighty sigh of one who had seen the impossible and dared to believe it could be true. She would look into the eyes of the year older, stronger and peace-filled me and know it was true.

I remember how that day went. Remember making Valentine's Day crafts with the kids, keeping my "normal" on as their sweet voices sang out the reasons they loved each of our family members. I remember being slain by Jason's note to me, "I love that you're always here for our kids." I used that little red heart note as a bookmark over the days I spent convalescing at my pastors house in the days following. I allowed it to judge me terribly. (Silly last year me, forgive yourself.) I mourned the fact that I was too "weak" to stay with them over that time. (Exhausted last year me, rest.) I filled those days reading and tentatively trying my hand at drawing. (Timid last year me, draw, draw, draw! You're better at it than you think!) 

I lie here so very thankful for those who stood up, like a hedge about me, and blocked out some of the darkness with their love. I thank God for you. I thank God. I am so thankful I don't live in that heavy mist anymore. Please give me grace when I say I am not sorry I went through that time. I don't say it lightly, as I am keenly aware that some of you reading may still be in that place of depression and desperately want a reprieve from it. When I say 'that time' I mean my whole lot. That year and a half of change and difficulty were the labour pains that gave birth to the person I am now. (Thank you last year me, in your weakness you were made stronger than you believed you could be.) 

This year has birthed confidence and clarity of thought. It has birthed new ideas, artwork, increased love and understanding. It has been a year of nurtured relationships and rest. It became the year I struck something off my imaginary 'list of impossible' and travelled back home, alone! It has been a year of SO.MUCH.HOPE. Perhaps there had been plans for harm, but there were better plans set before me on the table. Plans for hope and a better end. I chose them.

**If anyone is self harming or thinking suicidal or despairing thoughts, tell someone. Do it now. Much love to you, dear heart. ❤️ **