Every day I reflect on my role as a mother. It’s not something I ever take for granted or think I have handled.

In fact, the more my little goddess grows up, the more I realise that my job is less about being a mother (as we commonly understand the role), parent my child  from top down and be a teacher.

Sure, all those things are part of it, but that’s the smallest aspect of this privileged position.

My job as a parent is to be a learner, and to make sure my own development comes first. Children are a mirror into the parts of ourselves we need to heal, embrace or evolve.

At times, the reflection is hard to bear, because it can be so viciously unforgiving. Ironically, those are the exact times where I need to muster the courage to look up and examine what I see.

These reflections show where the past has been undealt with, where I’m not complete with my childhood, where I need to forgive, and the garbage I need to let go of.

But it also has the power, when I allow it, to show the aspects of myself I haven’t owned, good and bad, and it leads me down a path of evolution that no other thing in life has the power to do.

See, it’s not my child that ‘is’ a certain way and needs to be changed or fixed. It’s the part of me that gets triggered that carries baggage I need to shed, and beliefs I never questioned that don’t serve me.

And it’s there, 24/7…

The reflection in these powerful little mirrors also affirms where I’m healed and where I’m living my life powerfully and to my design. That’s the beauty of it. It’s a gruelling and beautiful process, all at the same time.

Motherhood is one big, constant enquiry into who I am. Who I truly am. The job, as I see it, is to do what it takes to let the part of myself who’s righteous, hurt and unconscious out of the way, so the part who was born exactly like my children, pure and connected, can shine through when it most counts.

Now, will this ever be perfect? Heck no! Our kids also learn from our unconsciousness and from our mistakes. We are, indeed, meant to make them, as hard as it is to accept them. It’s all part of the mix.

Is it easy? Again, heck no! But it’s one of the richest experiences in life. And one that takes a kind of courage that nothing else will ever require. The reward: a beauty and an ugliness, a level of joy and pain that makes me feel alive and reminds me that life is forever shaping us, and that we’ll forever be works-in-progress. And that’s ok.

I welcome this dance between the holy grail and rock bottom. A lot of the times reluctantly, of course. My humanness tries everything to have me avoid any kind of pain.

The only way I’ll authentically ever be able to teach my children is by being a living demonstration of the exact things I’d love for them to learn.

No point trying to teach self-love to my little goddesses if, deep inside, I hold myself a prisoner to harsh patterns of perfection. If I want to teach my kids to be creative, I need to put my creativity first, so they learn that it’s ok for them to do the same.

The heart must break-open. And I must be willing to embrace vulnerability. Well and truly easier said than done, but I start with the willingness to learn.

Arms, heart and mind wide-open, even if my teeth are clenched and I feel butterflies in my stomach.

2 thoughts on “Motherhood

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