It’s the day before a new school year starts. James is unfocused and full of everything: energy, anxiety, questions, and creativity. I am trudging along, feeling like my feet are inches-deep in mud. Everything anyone does feels like fingernails on a chalkboard; I am highly irritated and I feel like organizing everything. James and I are both unsure of what this year holds. Summer is over and we are both feeling the need for control in this unknown.
As I prepared breakfast for everyone I had a flashback of being the shower just a week before Baby Moe’s birth. In the shower that day, I stroked my bulging, heavy belly, trying get an intense toning contraction to mellow out. As I rhythmically rubbed my belly with tears streaming down my cheeks, I whispered, “I know you are coming soon my love. I am ready. I will miss carrying you inside, and I am ready for you to be born. We enter this next phase of our journeys, together and separate. I am ready.` Baby Moe has taught me that my babies — my kids — are their own unique beings with their own separate journeys.
From the moment of conception, I have had very little control over them.
I can provide a safe, loving, nurturing environment… and that’s about it.
This is what today is like for James and me. I want to be ready for the next phase of our journeys, and I simultaneously find myself fighting against it. Time seems to be racing and I can’t hold onto it or onto him. I can’t pretend that time has paused — that he isn’t old enough to journey away from my arms — like I can in the summer. I am going to miss him.
James, my love, it is time. Time for you to get back out there. Go learn and grow and explore and spread your world-changing magic. Struggle and wrestle and get beautifully frustrated over and over and over because that is what makes you you. I am incredibly and overwhelmingly proud of you.