Motherhood is not for a faint of heart

I have always been intuitive which sometimes takes me on a ride because I feel that I can prevent things if I act early enough.  Last night when Marko fell and cut his forehead, I instantly knew it was a big deal (not in a sense of him being in danger, but as something that required immediate and complete attention.)  Luckily, my husband acted even more quickly, slapped a band-aid on his cut and got ready to take him to emergency.  I stayed at home, powerless.

Trying to justify why part of me freaked out so badly about this event, I realized, in the past week, minus the holidays, I received a call from my older son Adrian’s school every day, once because he threw up and I needed to bring him home, second time because he was coughing and insisted to see the nurse, and today he was bit by another child and it broke his skin so they had to let us know and advise to call the pediatrician.

On one hand, I get it, it’s a first world problem, there are people who are battling issues and sicknesses with their children that can hardly compare. Yet, I cannot deny that my heart skips a beat every time I get a phone call from school that I don’t expect or I hear something thumble where I know my kids are.  It’s an instant “fight” response for me and the one that provides me very little freedom to relax and just BE.

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.”

This poem by Kahlil Gibran was a lot easier to understand and accept when I didn’t have children.  I had a lot to say about how I would raise them and what kind of a mother I would be.  In fact, for the longest time I had so much to say to my mother about mothering me, even though that is not my place.  It’s humbling.  Motherhood is humbling and it reaches deep into the places we didn’t think were there.  It uncovers the darkness we feel inside and it exposes it.  Children don’t do as we say, they mirror what we do.  There cannot be anything more glaring for us about us than that.

All this to say, mothering is not for the faint of heart.  We are not meant to be wonder women nor any other super heroes.  We are meant to love them with all of our hearts but give them freedom to be their own people.  If that means they will have a scar on their forehead or a bite on their shoulders, so be it.  Control will not provide them much.  I say this and I understand fully all of you controlling mothers out there because I belong to your club. And, I know, without a shadow of a doubt that this experience is transforming us into the people we are meant to become in this life time.  We just have to keep bring awareness to it so we can keep flowing with life and not against it.

Love,

Marija ❤

My Come Back

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Dear Reader,

I am getting close to being 40.  It has me self-reflect a lot.   In addition, working as a personal coach, I am constantly looking at ways to reinvent myself and my life.  Sometimes it’s not even a choice, it is what is needed for me in order to serve a client, but it never fails to be exactly the thing I need.

I’ve been wanting to start a blog for some time now, to share my life, my message, my life as my message.  Then last night as I was drifting asleep, I realized, I already have a blog, I just stopped attending to it.  So instead of starting fresh, I decided to continue.  I decided to accept what I have already written and just continue on.  I am not doing this to let things linger, on contrary, I am doing this so I can fully own all that I have been and all that I am now.  If there is anything to repair, amend, then it will surely show up as I continue to write and I will repair/amend accordingly.

I welcome back those of you who read my blog posts before and I welcome all the new readers with open arms.  You see, since I last posted, I had another child, moved back to New York City and have grown in ways I can’t even explain.  And I won’t explain, I will just continue to share my voice and continue to grow.  I invite you to grow with me.

With gratitude for life, love and light

 

Marija ❤

 

 

Pregnancy – reality check (from August 27th, 2013 – about a week before I birthed my first son)

I think all of my life, with some rare occasions of being rebellious, I have wanted to be a wife and a mother.  Definitely, the moment I was clear I wanted to be in a relationship, I was looking forward to everything the relationship would bring: partnership, prosperity, wealth, marriage, and children.

I have envied people who were in powerful marriages, who got along well and at the sight of pregnant women, at least after my 20s, I was envious and jealous.

It’s not until I got pregnant myself that illusions of the miraculous child birthing were beginning to crash.  Namely, I had visions of working and being completely mobile until the day of delivery and have found myself exhausting and sick for almost my entire first trimester.  My breast were getting bigger and it was painful.  I could no longer sleep on my stomach which is how I liked to sleep since I was born.  The worse thing was, no one could tell I was pregnant, because nothing showed on the outside, so I wouldn’t necessarily get a better treatment while in a metro or waiting in a line.

Then second trimester came and I had felt much better. I could finally eat food again (something other than lemons, grapefruits and sour cabbage), but my body was changing.  Now, I wasn’t looking pregnant but slightly chubby and for someone who suffered from extra weight and many impacts of that in my teenage years, that was a big mental struggle to overcome.  Don’t get me wrong, I wanted my baby more than anything else, but the way I felt was hardly matching or feeling like it’s  a fair price to pay.  Mind you,  I am talking about healthy pregnancy.  I cannot even imagine what women who have slight complications have to go through.

And finally, I am approaching the end of last trimester, very close to delivery.  I have interviewed more than 50 mothers, checked about different ways of delivery etc.  And, it seems that, while there is a small percentage of women who were mind strong and were able to have a relatively easy and natural delivery, most women had some kind of complication, lot’s of pain and perhaps some further impacts in their life from birthing their child (or children).  Yes not one of them is ongoingly complaining and most of them did all they could to put that experience behind the moment they brought life into the world, but I know, from having talked to all of them, that they all experienced pain in the process.

Then a friend of mine recommended a book by Ina May and on her website, even prior to ordering, I found this quote:

“It’s not just the making of babies, but the making of mothers that midwives see as the miracle of birth.”

— Barbara Katz Rothman

I realized that there was more to it than what we initially get to see.  This fear that I had my whole life about birthing a child, as much it can be justified, is also a bit unnatural.  And, I am out to find out.  AS my friend said, affirming: “easy, natural, child birth!!!”

My last unpublished and unfinished post

 

There comes a time in our life when we realize that we aren’t just students but teachers, not just children but parents, not just ones who receive but the ones that give.  I have been thinking about this topic for quite some time, but I am still not sure that it’s ripe enough to be shared or that I can describe it clearly if I do.

I think we are mostly taught to push down our emotions or set them aside when we are making big decisions.  Even if we have the opportunity to express them, we are expected to move away from them as soon as we speak their truth.  That is a big problem for women because we are then inevitably invalidating who we are for the purpose of action, progress and result.  While we move forward, I don’t think we move towards fulfillment.

To love deeply is to know the pain, to truly move forward is to allow yourself to linger in mud and fully experience being disempowered, angry, sad…