Where Does She End & Where Do I Begin?

Musings on my next season of motherhood...

My daughter is turning two in October. That means, almost a year of being pregnant. Over a year of breastfeeding. Another year of raising a full-blown human who has opinions, emotions, wants, and needs.

My life changed on that day when those two lines arrived. I was forever transformed. What once was me magically became we. I was intertwined with her soul, instantly.

I wasn’t quite sure what kind of parent I would become, but I surprised myself with how much I love being an attached mother. I love holding her close. I love kissing her sweet forehead and putting her little hand in mine. I love that we co-sleep. I love that we do almost everything together. She is me and I am her.

In the past few months, I’ve noticed a shift beginning. While still so incredibly little, she’s growing up. She now wants more independence. She wants to do it herself. She wants to know herself. And my role has shifted as a result. I’m no longer relied upon for every movement, for every need. She reaches what she needs herself. She feeds herself.

And while she is, of course, still extremely reliant on me and will be for a long, long time (especially as little ones are walking subconscious minds until they are at least 7 years old), I’ve noticed this energetic shift in our connection together and I see that she is slowly becoming her own tiny being.

It’s made me reflect on, where does she end and where do I begin?

The portal from maiden to mother is all-consuming, and the journey from growing a human, to birthing a human, to raising a human is sacred and soulful. I am sensing a new season emerging. We are leaving the intense era of the matrescence portal and returning to the world again, with fresh eyes, ready to explore.

Gone are those sacred nights of feeding, gone are the times when she sat in my lap for hours on end, gone are the quiet stroller walks at all odd hours of the day. But here is the sweet chatter. Here is the chasing and running and playing. Here is the understanding, speaking, and trying new things. Motherhood is a journey of grief and deep joy and holding that space in the same hand, at the same time.

I feel entirely new, and she’s entirely new herself. We’re on this journey together, but we're also on our own paths, if that makes any sense. I watch myself watching her now, rather than doing it for her. I let her try new ways to go up the stairs while I stand behind, not holding on any longer. I let her explore her surroundings without me constantly hovering, and I always ask her, “Do you feel safe?” and say endlessly, “Take your time.”

I’ve gone from being the ship to becoming the captain, and she’s now my first mate. I lead her, but she decides in the end what is best for herself. She knows I will always be there. She knows she can always ask me what to do, but I trust that she has all the power within her to be her truest self, and together we make our way through the unpredictability of the sea.

I imagine it’s a voyage we’ll be on for the rest of our lives.