Tags
baby, change, family, life, motherhood
Waylon turned five months old yesterday.
Five months. I do not know how time moves, how days can go by slowly and yet months are gone in a moment. Yesterday I took a walk alone for the first time since I can remember, only my weight to carry. I stooped to take photos, stopped and sat on a snowy rock to write, pranced down steeper slopes in the woods.
Today I went into town for a few hours by myself, leaving Edge and Waylon at home so I could run errands and have solo-mama time. When was the last time I lingered in the book store, or tried on clothes? By the end of my town run, though, I felt uneasy, as if I had over stayed, and I imagined Edge back at home, wondering where I was as Waylon cried and cried. But when I walked into the yurt, Waylon was sleeping in his hammock as Edge did dishes and the music of R. Carlos Nakai floated peacefully in the air.
I remember the lesson I learned the morning Waylon was born–to let go–and I search for the balance between independence and motherhood.
As I read through old entries in my notebook, I found this, from September 30:
My body is shrinking, trying to remember the shape before pregnancy, but there is a space I feel inside, carved out by his body as he grew inside me. Though I may get back to a certain weight, there is a new stretch within me, a cavern that cannot close completely. I am forever changed.
Like flowing water that carves the riverbank, we shift and adapt together, independent and intertwined: earth and water, mother and son.
So astute, exactly how it feels, after my first foray from a newborn I wrote, “I felt the line between us unraveling all the way down the mountain, nine miles to town…” Love and joy to you now and for the New Time that comes and comes.
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Katie…you have such a beautiful way
With words, your images, and shared
feelings. A wish sent to you and all
who read this: that we do edge closer
to feeling a little more balanced,
that we find the essential time in
our so busy lives to not do and just be.
Thank you, Katie! 💜
Kerri
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Beautiful. Made me tear up and put a name to feelings for which I didn’t have words.
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AMAZING. The part from your notebook brings me to tears because even today- almost a year after having my son Everson, I tell my husband nearly every day that I feel “empty” inside. He usually tries to make me feel better by telling me I have so much to be thankful for and I agree– it’s not that I feel empty like glass half empty, but rather the cavern that cannot close, as you put it. This is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell my husband is that I am constantly aware of that stretch, the way my body has changed forever and the space that now separates my son and I as we sit across from one another in his playroom.
Thank you for helping me understand this feeling more. You are incredible and happy five months to Waylon!
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