Being a mama is a strange and beautiful sort of limbo

Day 27

photo by Michelle J.

photo by Michelle J.

Being a full time stay at home mama is a strange and beautiful sort of limbo.

For me, it feels completely timeless. I rarely look at the clock. Revel sleeps when he’s tired and we eat when we’re hungry.

He still nurses often, and whenever he wants.

My days are filled with baby hugs and sloppy, wide mouthed kisses, walks to the playground, games of peek-a-boo, and itsy bitsy spider.

We watch the bugs outside now- he notices all the crickets and grasshoppers, and the caterpillars too.

Almost everything makes him laugh. The end of anything fun makes him cry.

He loves books, and wants to read the same ones over and over again. My favorite thing is to hear the stories in Wil’s warm, familiar voice. “Red truck Can! Peek- a who? There’s a crack in the track!” over and over and over again.

Each day is remarkably the same. Comfortingly the same. Like I said, timeless.

But then, there’s also the sense of time running out, rushing along, each precious moment too short.

He’s two inches taller than he was last month! He says Dada, and Mama, and Yaaaay! in a soft and deepish voice.

He’s outgrown his shoes, and the 12 month onesies won’t snap at the bottom anymore.

He’s sturdy on his feet, and tries to climb almost anything. He notices, and points to every plane in the sky.

He brings his toys to drink milkies, holds them to my breast and makes a lip smacking sound.

I knew who he was, before he was born.

photo by Lynn Johnson

photo by Lynn Johnson

He looks at me with such love, my knees grow weak.

Because to be a mama is to live with the constant, nearly debilitating, threat of loss.

The loss of each moment. The knowing that each amazing stage is so incredibly fleeting.

And the terrorizing fear of losing your child.

To illness, to accidents, to war, to violence, to a collapsing ecosystem, to a culture hell bent on destruction.

And every passing second, every beat of his precious heart, every touch of his soft baby hand, each milky snuggle at the end of a long day,

reminds me just how high the stakes are.

Losing is not an option.

My boy, and ALL the earth’s babies deserve the best this world has to offer.

And I’m hell bent on giving them that.

I DARE you to stand in my way.

Let it be known.

Thank you for listening,

Love,

Natasha

photo by Michelle Johnsen

photo by Michelle Johnsen

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4 responses to “Being a mama is a strange and beautiful sort of limbo

  1. Niki Tiefenthaler

    So perfectly worded!

    • Thank you for your kind words,and thank you for reading. Glad to be connecting with kindred spirits!! That’s where the revolution lives:) Love, Natasha

  2. This made me want to cry in the best way possible. Thank you for putting so beautifully into words what I feel every day.

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