Spring Equinox
“Nature makes its own concordances as a mere outgrowth to its movement; it is we who see structure and give names to pattern.”
Beginning my third trimester on the first day of Spring calls for a celebration, yes? The rain is falling as lake gusts howl, bringing in the season I’ve longed for since Autumn.
Motherhood — a sacred, messy, humanizing time. I’ve plunged to the depths of a world I’m not sure I’m properly equipped for. I lack an explanation for the topside world on my current location, even to my nearest & dearest. I am different than I was yesterday. I will be different again tomorrow.
It’s scary to be compassionate amongst uncertainty but softness is strength. We hurt, then we heal. Unfolding is the ultimate sign of faith that all will be okay amidst unknown outcomes. My fears exhaust me and they’re contagious. Fear breeds fear. The last thing I want my little girl to be before she even enters the world is fearful of it. She needs me to provide on all levels. Fear is not genetic but my energy is felt in the womb. How is it not? My womb is me. She must feel what I give to her as I feel what she gives to me; late-night kicks, provisional demands, an unconditional purpose.
What do I do in times like these?
First: cocoon. The required stage before a blossom of wings. A cocoon’s exterior appears to be resting but its inner workings are anything but solitary. The beauty forthcoming cannot exist without this sacred season. As with all things, there is a natural time limit. We cannot stay in this protected & comfortable home forever.
And so, second: emerge. The butterfly does not fly instantly from her chrysalis. She first must pump fluids into the veins of her wings. An effort is required to unfold before we can celebrate flight. We know what comes next, we are antsy for what we see on the horizon.
Third: fly. We are not here yet, you & me, a mere season away. The makeup of Us intertwined a while longer. A most awkward stage in-between emerging and flight, the hardest for your Momma to endure. Hurry up, but wait. I hold on despite my unknowing. Trust.
Catalyst to your chrysalis, little butterfly. Wings are coming soon.
