I’ve noticed that when I sit in the presence of someone willing to share a personal story, no matter what the subject matter, I find myself leaning in, wanting to know more.
For years I’ve reserved sharing a part of my story, not wanting to bother people with it, or worried about being judged.
Sometimes when people ask me if I have kids I inevitably say, “Yup, 5! Crazy, right?!” I added the last part of self-deprecation because I didn’t want them to ask me anymore.
What if instead I said:
I was in my final year of university finishing my teaching degree, married just under two years, living in Montreal where the atmosphere was economically and politically depressive and the thought of getting a teaching job seemed bleak.
In the fall of 1996 I found myself expecting our first child. The test was positive. I was filled with so many emotions and questions. The strongest emotions were fear and wonder. Am I ready for this?
The day our first child arrived, a couple weeks before my 24th birthday, two new thoughts struck me – I am now and forever a mother and how is it possible that I can love another human being so much? The weight of this was felt into my very bones.
With each child that followed, including the two I miscarried, I was reminded again and again – I am now and forever a mother and how is it possible that I can love another human being so much?
My heart, body, mind, and soul have been forever changed. I have seen the worst parts of myself – rage, panic, and fear of getting it all wrong and also the best parts of myself – resourcefulness, instinct, and showing up.
Above all – the capacity of my ever expanding heart.
As I sit here now, reflecting on the last 25 years of being a mother I am still in wonder and fear, still sitting in the tension of the two. The difference – I’m okay being here. It’s where I belong.
The deep dark truth is: I didn’t want to share this part of my story because I was ashamed. It was all true – I’m a mom of 5, a little bit crazy, deeply afraid, living in the wonder of it all, not ready, deeply in love, and who wants to hear that story?
I can imagine as the reader there were parts of my story that resonated and connected you to me and this is the beauty of storytelling. There’s something mysterious and full of wonder in sharing and witnessing each other’s stories. It helps us to know we’re not alone.
When you feel ready, share a part of your story to those whom you trust knowing that they want to see and know you – be witnessed and share in what makes us human.
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