Did you see the Northern Lights on Friday? I didn’t. I spent the evening kissing my baby good night, exercising, cooking, and pumping milk in my mother’s basement before going to bed exhausted. I used to follow the phases of the moon and sit for hours watching the night sky. I used to look up Northern Lights activity obsessively. Seeing them has been on my bucket list since I was a teenager. Two days ago, the Northern Lights were upstairs, and I had no clue.

Years ago, if someone would have told me that story, I would have taken it as a reason to hold off on having kids. Now, sitting here writing this at 4 am, seeing my little one on the baby monitor, I feel so grateful to be where I am. 

Before I became a mom, I noticed screaming babies. I noticed the exasperated looks on parents’ faces when their kids threw tantrums in grocery stores. I noticed the exhausted dark circles on the faces of child-carrying mothers whose husbands made eye contact with me as they walked by. Ick. I never wanted to be stuck in something like that.

I’ve been studying childhood trauma for a long time—not only as a psychological topic but also as a facet of my psyche. I knew that my aversion to becoming a mom had something to do with my relationship with my parents. Too many times, I’ve been afraid of dragging my children through exactly what I went through. I felt it was safer to stay away from the whole experience.

Older women warned me that something would happen in my 30s, some biological shift that would make me want to procreate. I remember being 23 years old with dyed black hair, face full of piercings, and a button clipped to my Nightmare Before Christmas bag that said “Cats Not Kids.” Back then, I considered getting my tubes tied to prevent hormone-induced brainwashing. 

A few years ago, I started feeling something more than cramps with every menstrual period: some emptiness I couldn’t explain. I’ve written about having a love-sized hole inside my heart. Some people talk about having a God-sized hole. No one tells you about the child-sized hole: the literal empty uterus and the inexplicable longing to create a tiny being.

As my baby boy was growing inside me, I felt peace. I also felt nauseous at the smell of my favourite foods and terrible heartburn after consuming anything, even water, and anxious about the future of my artistic endeavours, but I also felt peace. I was, after all, embarking on the ultimate creative act: creating a human being.

I was excited to become a mom, but I was also afraid. I feared that my inexperience with children would make me unable to connect with my son. I feared living without sleep or inspiration or intimacy with my partner. I feared losing myself. I feared experiences exactly like the one I had this weekend: realizing I missed the once-in-a-lifetime celestial event I’d been awaiting while wrapped up in motherhood.

If I could speak to myself in pregnancy during one of those overthinking midnights, I’d show her just a glimpse of the magic that happens around here every day. Sure, there are moments of stress and overwhelm and confusion, but there are even more moments of pure joy and deep connection and real laughter. There are bursts of dancing and silly songs and wide-eyed wonder. I tried so many things to heal my inner child, but there’s nothing like a real-life baby to keep my inner child company.

I’ve had some tough moments where I’ve felt like I had to choose between my inner little girl and my little boy. In those times, I’ve chosen him more automatically than I can explain. During my traumatic delivery as well as a difficult postpartum period, I put my child’s welfare before mine, and I did it without giving it much thought. If you’re a mom, you know. That’s how it is.

I realize now that this is why, in all the years I spent coaching people on self-love and self-confidence, the majority of my clients have been mothers. Motherhood gives you strength and happiness, but it also makes you less selfish. Motherhood gives you the ability to care for someone more than you care for yourself. It’s a superpower, but it also has the power to harm your self-trust.

My inner child can wait, but she can’t wait forever. If I don’t create space for her, I can’t be the best mother I can be. We are always parenting ourselves as well as our children.

No matter how much I’ve tried to create space for myself with daily exercise and nature walks and writing in the middle of the night, I still missed my beloved Northern Lights. Honestly, I don’t even know when the last full moon was or when the next one will be. That feeling of separation from myself is uncomfortable, but it’s also an essential communication. A part of me is calling myself home.

Women older than me always like to remind me it was harder for them. They had to boil cloth diapers and handwash all their dishes and mop the floors on their hands and knees. I think it’s true that it was harder, but not just because of the chores.

The biggest advantage we have nowadays is the opportunity to destroy this myth of the mother who loses herself through her children. There might be things I miss out on. There might even be things I can’t do at all right now. But every day, I take time to put my phone away and engage with my baby deeply and find parts of myself in him that I’ve been looking for all along.

It’s easy to focus on what we’ve lost. I had abs and long nights of sleep and lots of free time. I can only gain back so much right now. But instead of focusing on what’s gone, I see what I do have: a totally in-the-moment, curious little guru waiting to teach me about seizing the moment.

One day, I’ll see the Northern Lights. My son will be by my side. I’ll tell him about the time I missed it when he was very small. We will be in awe of the spectacle before us, and we will be grateful that I missed out all those years ago.

More than anything, this is what motherhood has given me: an eternal beacon of hope. A reason to not only live but live fully and believe that everything happens for a reason and everything will be okay.

Just a quick note before I leave you to the comments that the poem in this blog post was written as part of The Poetry Nest project for Ars Poetica. Read more about it here.

Comments

12 thoughts on “What Being a Mother Means to Me

  1. I understand all of this. It’s the biggest sacrifice, yes, but the love you’ve gained is beyond words. I’m glad you also found the peace within the sacrifice. 🌿💕🌿

      1. Hi Vironika, This is such a beautiful write up. You put into words what so many moms feel but may have a hard time expressing! When I was reading it, I just kept saying yes! Savour these previous moments of awareness.
        Barb

        1. When I first became a mom especially, I kept thinking of you, admiring your strength as a mom and a woman. It’s amazing how much work and sacrifice motherhood requires. I feel like we belong to some special club that never meets up because we’re all too tired 😅

  2. Yes indeed, there is a reason to be grateful and there is a reason to hope. Thoroughly enjoyed reading your words again. Seems I’m constantly inspired to reach out and get distracted or sidetracked. You spoke into existence what you endeavor to see, Beautiful. Thank You

  3. It’s so funny that this would arrive in my inbox this morning… while walking my dog in the forest after dropping off my 3 year old at kindergarden, I was having similar thoughts! The time of the birth was the most intense thing I ever experienced, but then the intensity slowly subsides and we can make more time for ourselves. One thing I didn’t have so much of as a child was the encouragement and trust to be myself, and it’s therefore of utmost importance to me that my daughter knows and loves herself 🫶I do my best now as mama to lead by example! Thanks for sharing these thoughts and experiences Vironika 🥰

    1. I feel you on every single point, Gem! Except I’ve only been a mother for six and a half months, so I can only imagine what three years of motherhood curriculum will bring! It’s the most healing education I’ve ever taken up. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me! 😊🙌

  4. This is so much truth in one post. This is extreme truth and hits me deep in my feels. Making me think, what are my truths, what truths am I not able to say so clearly like you have here. You are very honest and I aspire to be like you in this way. I’m on a bus right now trying to think of all the ways I can be more honest, and doing this, I already feel lighter. You are an amazing mother, poet, partner and human being. I can’t wait to see you. Northern lights finna pop off extra for all of us when we finally see it all together. 🙂

    1. You have your own ways of expressing truths without words ✨ Every note is a tiny little truth within itself. And I can’t wait to see how this story ends 😁❤️

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