*I wrote this poem a number of years ago now but it still feels fresh*
It felt like Mother Nature breathed your life into my ear as our souls brushed against each other on the trail the other day. I think she delivered the message through a gust of wind. Or maybe she was just taking a deep breath. I recall things slowed down to a crawl, the leaves suddenly rustling loudly under my feet.
Everything seemed magnified.
You and your friend were out for a hike with your wee ones. Each one was sweetly packed into the bunting of your backpacks. The small papooses were taking in the grandeur of the trees surrounding them, their tiny eyes wide and inquisitive.
You and your friend were looking at your phone. Maybe you were looking at old photos but I suspect you were positioning for a selfie.
I don’t think you even noticed us.
But for that brief moment, I felt all of your frustration, your fears, your insecurities. I felt the weight of your motherhood in the pit of my stomach. I felt the pressures, the expectations, the worry, the judgement and the self-doubt. I felt the burden of that little papoose, you symbolically carry on your back.
I saw the life of comparison your parenting skills would face. I felt the torment you would feel about the decision society would force you to make: follow your dreams or be the mom you’re expected to be. The world doesn’t allow you to do both.
I felt the weight you would carry to make everything ‘perfect’. The perfect dinner, the perfect house, the perfect garden, the perfect vacation and the perfect life.
The perfect body and the perfect wife.
I felt the anger you would have when you returned to work, only to find things were very different. Your job was different, your work was different and your friends were different. I felt your overwhelming disappointment but I also felt your rage.
I felt every single time you chose your family over yourself. I felt every invitation you would have to decline and every joy you would have to bypass, so that your family could be perceived as ‘happy’. I felt the resentment you would have that all of that fell on your shoulders and yours alone.
I felt the lack of time you would have to yourself, the variety of tones in which you would hear the word, ‘Mom’. There would be times when it would be a nuisance but there would be times when it would be a blessing. Still other times it would be a saving grace.
I envisioned you moving the other things in your life to the foreground and your hopes and dreams drifting to the back. I felt you shrinking and disappearing.
I felt your deep sorrow.
I felt the stigma you would feel around asking for help. You would feel better remaining silent than to appear weak.
I felt all the ways you would try to numb the longing you felt inside; the longing to get back to yourself. The long journey back to your core; the person you were before.
I felt your fierce determination to reclaim your identity. I felt your river of tears over lost time, lost years and lost hope. I felt your fear that you hadn’t done your best; for others and most importantly, for yourself.
All of that, I felt.
And it may have been over a number of years, a number of months, a number of days or even a number of moments, I can’t be sure.
But what I do know for sure is that I saw you, I felt you deeply and I just wanted you to know that I finally understood.
And that I miss you Mom. I wish you could have told me.
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