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A post about finding the best time for yourself as a mother | indiasroses.com

When I was a kid my Mom always got up at 5 o’clock in the morning. I remembered being baffled by this as a young child, and further still as a teenager. I even remember finding it particular odd as a young adult on her own in the world for the first time. “Who has time to wake up at 5 a.m.?” And as a stay at home mother she wasn’t getting up for some timed job, she had all ready been on the job all night; this would have been her opportunity to get some extra sleep, but still she got up at five every morning.

Now as I sit her writing this at 6 a.m. my whole life (so far) later, I begin to understand the reason for the early hours. It wasn’t a conscious decision and there have certainly been moments in my life as a mother that I ignored the early morning wake up call but somehow, sometime after the birth of my daughter I also found my internal clock shifting and my mind and body waking before my family was up and my wife/mother job started for the day. It’s such a peaceful time sitting quietly listening to the world waking up and the sounds of my family sleeping calm, relaxed and undisturbed as time moves forward around them. It’s magical, magical and just for “Me”.

In the evening after my daughter is asleep for the night, my husband is happily entertained by his latest gaming interest and all the house is pulled back together; after dinner and family life I find myself with a little bit of time to myself which I greatly appreciate, but at the end of the day when everyone’s needs have been met and all has been said and done there is very little of myself left for me. I’m tired both mentally and physically, the pains of pregnancy are gnawing at my body and creativity is something I vaguely remember from earlier in the day when I was crafting with my daughter or trying to reason my way out of another tantrum. It’s not really time for myself as much as time by myself while the weight of my whole day still wrests heavily on my shoulder.

But 6a.m….. That really is just for me. Being a natural morning person after getting out of bed and brushing my teeth I find myself feeling alert and refreshed, ready to take on a new day full of wonderful and positive possibilities. As I sit here alone the weight of life is light and my optimism for the future is sweet and heavy with promise. And it’s these moments as the sun peaks over the mountains, light trickling into the valley, as a new day is born that I find myself being able to truly recharge and center myself in a peaceful and calm way that could last me a lifetime if only I remembered to great it each day as it comes and give this gift to myself, for the peace that I gain from this hour of new day far exceeds the benefits of an extra hour in bed.

When do you get your “Me” time?

Also if you caught it this is in fact a picture of a sunset and you’re right. I couldn’t find one I’d taken in the morning and it was just to beautiful to leave out.

 

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It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I check in every so often and stare longingly at the cover page of India’s Roses and wish I never put it down, but that’s just a thing I can’t undo like most things in life that have already been done. So instead I pick myself up, dust the cobwebs from my headline and try again.

So here goes…. (more…)

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I’ve been away from my blog for a while, everything else just seems to have become more important, and “Me” time that wasn’t strictly dedicated to removing curdled bits of baby vomit from my clothes and cleavage had become few and far between.

Becoming a mother is by far the best way to have your life turned inside out and all of your priorities rearranged by an 8 pound midget, now I say rearranged instead of reorganized, because there is nothing organizational about the first few months of having a child. There is no schedule on which they do anything, which in some ways was a blessing upon my overly organized, mostly self centered life.

My Sweet little SweetPea arrived at 7:04 on the evening of February 15th also known as the hardest and most gratifying day of my entire life. I don’t think there is a single moment in my life that will require more concentration, and more physical and mental stamina than giving birth did. It was extreme in every possible application of the word, and created change in every imaginable part of me.

There was a moment between the emergence of my daughters shoulders and when I reached down to pull her the rest of the way into the world and up onto my bare chest where I felt something entirely new. A new sensation that consumed me wholly, starting hot in my heart, and twining its way through every particle of my being until every inch of me was smoldering with the warm embers of a fire that I knew could never be put out, sparked by this creature I could finally feel against my sweat dampened skin, and at that moment I experienced for the very first time Unconditional Love. When she looked into my eyes it was complete and utter euphoria. I would do anything for this person, anything to keep her happy, and anything to keep her safe and protected from all forces that may wished to harm her. And I would Love her, I would Love her until the end of my days, with ease through the good times, and with unfaltering fortitude through any moment she suffered. I would love her no matter what, no matter what she did or what she became, no matter how proud I was, or how badly I wished she’d change her mind I would Love her.

I was hooked; the center of my universe instantly transported itself from the base of my own heart, and nestled within the chambers of hers just as if it had been there all along, and five very short months later, that is where my center continues to reside.

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Today I am 37 weeks pregnant, which starts the final count down to Birth-day… and may I just add that it’s hard to start a count down when the possibility of having Sweet Pea today is just as possible as having her five weeks from now. So we wait…

37 weeks… Wow! What an incredible long way we’ve come since that extra pink line appeared on the pregnancy test strip. I was in such awe at the concept of actually being pregnant that I took a test every day for a week and lined them all up next to each other on the bathroom counter just to be sure it was still true, but the line just got darker and more defined as each day went on, and somewhere inside myself I knew it was true.

33 weeks and 5 days later I have become quite large, and that little person I could feel only with my inner senses has made herself very prominent in my body, and quite obvious to the outside world. So prominent in fact I can hardly even remember what it was like to not be pregnant, to not have a huge belly full of squirmy littler person in front of me everywhere I go, to sleep all night without getting up to pee. I mean I used to run, Heck I used to walk, and now my fastest means of transportation is a nice slow waddle, and if I stretch the boundaries of my pre-pregnancy memory I can almost recollect a time when I could roll over in bed without getting beached half way through by the weight of my ever expanding abdomen, and Oh what a magical time that was!

Everyone goes on and on about how pregnancy is such a “special, magical, wonderful” time in a woman’s life… and it is… at least from the perspective of what your body is doing, what your body is making inside of you and how relatively short the time frame is when you think about all the cell replication and how quickly the final product is accomplished, but from the perspective of a sore, achy, tired, nauseated, squished bladdered, cumbersome, pregnant woman who can’t see anything between her belly button and her knees the experience doesn’t always exude “special, magical, wonderfulness”.

Do you know what the really “special, magical, wonderful” time in a woman’s life is? It’s the time she spends NOT pregnant. The time she spends before and after the birth of a child when her body is at its best leaving her physically able to do all she can do. When reaching for a dropped piece of paper is still a possibility, when trying to itch her shoulder doesn’t pull a muscle in her back, when she can enjoy the freedom of moving from one position to another without having to expertly devise and execute a plan of attack. Those were the days, and will hopefully “soon” continue to be the days, and I can’t imagine a moment more fulfilling than sitting with my husband and our new baby girl, her on the outside and me not-pregnant just enjoying being a family together, now I know it takes being pregnant to get to that picture, but I’d rather view the part of my life that is going to be the majority as “the most special time in my life” than try to falsely glorify the discomfort of pregnancy to unsuspecting hopeful mothers to be.

Being pregnant is a very Sepcial, Magical, Wonderful time in a woman’s life, but NOT being pregnant… is even better!

 

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I have had the same reoccurring dream through out my pregnancy. The context of the dream is always different and the images change and develop but the idea remains the same. A bright light shines on my swollen belly causing my skin to become transparent enough to glimpse the baby. Her skin is covered in veins and she’s always right on schedule with how many weeks along I am.

The first time I had the dream she was small and fragile swimming about in a sea of amniotic fluid, her tiny arms and legs so thin and brittle, her little body as transparent as the skin of my womb. She gets bigger and stronger every time I see her, and last night when I drifted off to sleep I was blessed with a view of my daughter, my perfect child; so big and strong her skin almost completely opaque, her fully formed appendages moving about, her perfect little nose on her beautiful little face, and the best part was her round head covered in thick dark hair. It was simply amazing to see, and when I woke from the dream I felt as though I knew her a little better than I’d known her before.

And next month when her birthday is revealed and I hold her in my arms for the very first time, I won’t be at all surprised to see the same little girl I’ve seen so many nights finally in my arms looking back at me.

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So many things to do, so many little clothes to wash, tiny socks to find, cloth diapers to fold, toys to clean and put away. The crib is set, the beds been made all waiting for her special day. I’ve read all the books, and picked through the best advice. We’ve made the choices as well as we can, but what do we really know?

Now I write this as a person who has never had a child before. Never been a mother past knowing and loving the person still being created inside of me, but I do have a theory, an idea of the best way to prepare for having a baby.

Stretch… Stretch a lot… Stretch your body, and most certainly stretch your mind because nothing is going to be as helpful as flexibility, as being able to let go of those preconceived notions of how everything is going to be, and how your life is going to look as a new parent. When I think about having my child I imagine her curled up next to me and her father in bed fast asleep. I imagine waking up to her softly rooting about as she expresses her desire to be fed, of pulling her close to me and dozing as she satisfies her hunger and then the both of us drifting back to sleep. This is my dream, my perfect utopia of motherhood at night. I would love for this to be my reality and in that desire I do hold on to the possibility that that is how it may be, but I’m also prepared to throw that picture out the window for the reality that will most likely ensue.

When I ponder those first months of being the mother of a Little Girl Person on the outside, I always try to add a little bit of reality to my fantasies, to remind myself that some things (okay most things) will not go as I envision, and to remember that the very best thing I can do for my sanity and the sanity of those around me is to be willing to change, accept, and appreciate my practices as a new mother.

I do hold on to one piece of sentiment that under no circumstance shall I let go, and that is the notion that in all of my daydreaming and fantasizing about the future I have only skimmed the surface of how amazing and wonderful motherhood will be, of what sort of experiences it will bring and how it will round and shape me as a person, and the bonds of our family.

I love my husband and I love myself, and I can’t even begin to grasp the love that I will have when I look into the eyes of a person made entirely out of us.

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There is a small person living inside of me, changing and growing every day. I’ve never seen more than a fuzzy colorless image of her on an ultrasound screen, her little nose and her little hands; her little heart beating so fast. Such a tiny glimpse into who will soon most certainly become the center of my world.

Yet some how I know her, as if I’ve known her my whole life and just been waiting for our time. My little Sweet Pea, My Daughter, this little girl person made entirely out of Love. I knew she was a girl before she was conceived. My first born was always going to be a girl, and the ultrasounds technicians confirmation was just the recognition of a premonition I’d had years ago.

I wish there was a way to explain her personality, the way she thinks and reacts. How with only a nudge I know what she feels, what she needs. She’s already capable of so much, of so many emotions and it makes me wonder if we will still be so closely linked when she is no longer kept alive by the beating of my heart. Will I still know her then? Will I still understand her wants and desires? I like to think the connection will only deepen, and that being able to share her completely with her father will tighten the already unbreakable bonds of our family.

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