Tonight I started thinking about the night 18 years ago, when my life changed forever… the night I became a mother.
Once the contractions started, I lit the fire and read my homemade goddess book full of inspiring thoughts, trying to hypnotize myself into pretending I was in a field of lavender with butterflies fluttering around me as I gave birth; or that I was standing next to an ancient waterfall, having a baby in delight with no pain.
You can imagine how well this worked–not at all. 24 delirious hours later, hours filled with tossing and turning, pacing the hallways and driving to the hospital on the full moon in a big storm only to find out they didn’t have room for me and I had to be in full blown labor in the waiting room while I waited for a room… Kim flew in from LA next to me, massaging my neck and back, bringing me cold towels for my forehead and telling me how strong I was, cheering with elation when my daughter took her first breath.
24 hours after those contractions began, this perfect little soul landed in my arms.
I immediately forgot the pain and stared in wonder at her soft black hair, her round cheeks, her perturbed expression. I didn’t care if I ever slept again because I couldn’t believe this tiny 8 pound magnificent soul was now living in my house. That night my life changed forever, someone would now call me mom, and depend on me to stay stable and full of light. Throughout my pregnancy and birth, I belly danced, literally dancing my daughter into the light. And I’m just … amazed. She’s 18. And the first thing she did today after school? Head straight to the earring shop for a third piercing. I had discouraged her from getting that third piercing, but “Now I’m 18 Mom.” But later tonight she collapsed sobbing in my arms, saying she didn’t want to grow up. I understand. It’s a rocky path from childhood and adulthood. Some things get easier, some get harder, but the miracles keep coming, so I always tell her to look for the light, and yes, take the time to cry.
