Winter sat with me last night in meditation
My heart froze - the chill and burden of it
Commanding center stage for attention.
Winter sat with me last night in meditation. My heart froze - the chill and burden of it commanding center stage for attention.
The
recent celebration of my daughter’s 2nd birthday and the birth of my nephew during Thanksgiving weekend have awakened painful memories
fat with guilt.
When my daughter was born, I was terrified. My singular, independent life was murdered. I didn’t
want her. I was exhausted from sleep deprivation, and felt chained to the breast pump and her. I felt like I was condemned
to a life sentence of Motherhood.
I only breast fed her for three weeks. A burning yeast infection of both breasts was
my ticket to freedom. I didn’t know who this tiny little creature was, and what she could possibly want or need from me with
her mixed signals of high pitched cries and spontaneous smiles.
I’m not sure when exactly it was that I started to love her the messy way - prolonged hugs despite our vomit and snots from illness and kisses full of saliva that drenched our clothes despite warm sunny days. I love her as a novice mother does, my skin scratched and bruised from creating my own path and definition of motherhood.
In "Everyday Blessings – The Inner Work of Mindful Parenting," Myla and Jon Kabat-Zinn write, “Every moment is a new beginning, another opportunity for tuning in…” My sleep last night was disturbed by dreams of guilt and uncertainty, of not knowing my daughter. This morning, I was able to accept guilt and uncertainty as the ingredients that froze my heart last night. Despite the 42 degree coldness outside, I stepped into another moment.
I wrote this first thing at work, and could
feel love and forgiveness thawing a frozen heart.
